The Hunt
by Sousaphone
Summary: Phryne goes away for the week, leaving Jack with space to think and a case of his own. But somehow, Miss Fisher always manages to get herself involved in Jack's cases, whether or not she intends to.
1. Chapter 1

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

This story could be read as a sequel to my other fic _One of a Kind_, but doesn't have to be. The only  
context you need to be aware of is that Jack and Phryne have _finally_ given in to their desires.

.

Chapter One

. . .

Amberlynn McCloud snuck into the gardener's shed as the note she had received told her to. She had the looks that, should she had not been born in Australia with no money for passage, would have made her a sort after model in Paris. Her hair, a light ginger, was wavy and thick, much like in the paintings of Greek Goddesses. She was determined not to allow the station she had been born into dictate her life. She was beautiful, of this she was aware, and she would use this beauty to the best of her advantage.

The shed smelt of mulch and had her turning up her nose. She checked her watch. She was on time, where was he?

As if responding to her mind's question, the door opened and he came in. Amber smiled wickedly and walked towards the man who would kill her.

"I wasn't expecting you," she purred.

He smiled back. It really was a shame, he thought, that he must kill her.

.

Phryne drank her morning coffee looking out her bedroom window at the busy St. Kilda street, buzzing under the hot summer sun. Even in her fanned, iced room, she felt the heat down to her bones, the soft slick of perspiration on her skin. It had been only two days since Jack had spent the night and she had yet to see him again. She yearned for his touch, but also, simply for his company.

She was trying very hard to give him space, knowing that it must be difficult for him knowing that she could not give him more. He needed to work out what he wanted out of their… relationship. However, she did not that she was going to be able to hold out much longer.

She loved him. Of this, she was well aware, even though it had taken her a while to realize it. But she had loved many others in her lifetime, friends and lovers alike. What scared her, she thought with a shiver, was that the love she and for him was greater than that. Such a love she had only previously felt once and told herself she would never feel again. Such love, she knew, could break you. Phryne Fisher preferred herself unbroken.

"Are you really going on a hunt Miss?" Dot asked, interrupting Phryne's thoughts. Dot was aware that God had given the creatures of the earth to man, but she did not approve of men shooting poor, defenseless animals for sport.

Phryne agreed with this sentiment.

"Yes Dot," Phryne sighed. "Aunt Prudence insists. But I shall not at all enjoy it."

Dot seemed to accept this as she didn't respond and simply went about packing Phryne's bag with all that would be required. She knew her employer, and what she would require in the way of clothing, better than Phryne knew herself.

"I shan't be away too long," Phryne informed her, taking a seat on her bed to watch Dot pack, a truly magical spectacle – how she managed to pack so much in such a tiny bag Phryne would never know – and lit a gasper. "Perhaps a week."

Dot knew that this would require at least two weeks worth of outfits. Her Miss Phryne had a way of going through clothing that Dot could not comprehend.

Phryne lay back on the bed and wondered if she should tell Jack that she was going away. It wasn't even as if they were lovers, they had only made love once – or rather, spent one night making love – but she felt she owed him an explanation as to her future absence. Phryne did not like owing anybody. However, she felt she was going to feel awful if she did not inform him.

"I'll be back soon Dot," Phryne notified, standing to dress herself.

"Your bags will be packed when you returned," she was assured.

"Dot," Phryne smiled, planting a kiss on the girl's head, "you are an angel."

.

Jack was giving orders to a sergeant when Phryne swept into the police station like a breath of, brightly colored and exotically scented, fresh air. When she saw he was busy, she stopped to chat to Hugh.

"Not now Miss," he said sympathetically, fear evident in his eyes, hinting towards Jack.

Phryne did not miss the hint and supposed it meant that Jack was not in the best of moods. This could be seen in the harshness of his tone and the scared look in the eyes of the sergeant he was reprimanding. Phryne was not used to Jack in this mood and was not sure as to how she was to handle the situation. She was not disposed to liking angry men.

She waited patiently, and in silence, as Hugh would not talking to her, until the scared sergeant left.

Jack walked the officer to the door and visibly prayed for patience when he saw Phryne waiting for him. Phryne repaid this look with a beaming smile and pushed into his office before he could have even thought to stop her.

"And what can I do for you Miss Fisher?" He asked. The source of his bad mood had arrived.

"Well, for a starters, you can tell me what has your panties in a bunch?" She asked simply. The word panties had recently been added to her vocabulary by way of her American friend Nadine who had a voice like smooth southern comfort. Phryne found it much more fun to say than knickers.

Jack shut the door behind them and Phryne raised her eyes suspiciously. Usually, she might have made a suggestive comment about being alone, but somewhere within her, reflexes kicked in. She straightened herself as if ready for a blow. She wasn't sure just what had made her do it, but she was ready. Jack cursed himself. He hated to think he could scare her, a woman who seemed completely fearless.

He rubbed his temple with his forefinger.

Phryne's interior protection instincts decided that Jack was not going to be a threat and dropped their defenses. She didn't walk to him, not sure how he would react, but propped herself up on the desk. She eyed him with sympathy and confussion. "What's wrong Jack?"

Perhaps the fact that I'm in love with you but can't possibly tell you and you probably do not feel the same and I don't know what do tell about the whole situation… "Just been a hard day," he informed her. "Please say you haven't come to make it worse."

Phryne mocked offense then smiled. "Not today. I just thought I would tell you that I'll be away for the next little while."

Jack looked at her as he if could not have possibly been given better news and she shoved him playfully. Jack grabbed her hand and suddenly everything changed. The room, it appeared to both of them, had become multiple degrees hotter, as if suddenly they were standing in a boiler room, not Jack's office. The tension was immense. There bodies were entirely too close. His brain fogged with the smell of her.

Jack, who had been trying not to think about Phryne since the night they had spent together, was flooded by images of her naked body intertwined with his. He was about to kiss her when there was a knock on the door.

Jack cursed and stepped back.

"Yes?" he asked grumpily. Any relief that had been gifted from Phryne dissipated as quickly as it had come.

A scared Hugh Collins entered slowly. His face mirrored that of a man entering a lion's cage. "There's… ah… a dead body, sir."

Jack sighed. He supposed, working as a homicide detective, one could not be annoyed when one was called to look over a dead body. "I'll be out in a moment Collins."

"Yes sir," Hugh replied and exited quickly.

"Don't take your bad mood out on him," Phryne instructed as she stood to leave. She questioned whether to brush a goodbye kiss over his lips and decided she would. Jack stood, momentarily speechless, as he watched her go then put on his coat and hat. He had a feeling it was to be a long day.

. . .

There you have it, the first chapter of my newest multi-chapter Phryne x Jack fic.

I hope you're ready cause I've a feeling it's going to be a long one.

I hope you like it.

xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Two

. . .

"You don't have to come with me Dot," Phryne tried to assure her companion. Dot wasn't having a bar of it.

"Of course I do Miss!"

"Only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind one bit," Dot assured her.

"If you are sure."

Dot gave her a look that told her she really was sure and if Phryne did not stop asking her she might pull out Phryne's gun, hidden away in her bag, and shoot her, was she not afraid of, and entirely against, guns. Phryne responded to this look with a broad grin. She really did love Dot immensely.

Jane helped get the luggage packed in the car – why Miss Phryne needed so many clothes was beyond her, she had yet to see the allure of fashion and was unlikely to anytime in the near future – and waited for an opening to ask the question she'd been dying to ask.

Before Phryne could climb into the car she tugged lightly on her sleeve as many young children did you wanted things. She hated herself for the action immediately, but at least it had gotten Miss Phryne's attention.

"Miss?"

"Yes Jane?"

"Is there any chance you could…" her voice dwindled as she tried to work out the best way to phrase her question.

"Yes?" Phryne prompted.

"If you catch the fox, do you think you can bring it back for me? I would love to examine its anatomy."

Dot did not hide her horror. Phryne, however, considered the question. "I'm currently running on the hope that the poor creature shall get away. But if it does not, I shall try to bring it back for you to have a look at its anatomy and for me to make into a nice scarf. Deal?"

"Deal," Jane smiled wickedly. Dot was worried about that girl's interests. Jane was already making plans to go to the library at her school and getting out any books that might be relevant.

"You don't want me to drive Miss?" Mr Butler suggested.

"No Mr B," Phryne smiled, climbing into the driver's seat of her Hispano-Suiza. "You shall stay and keep my house from falling."

"Very good Miss," he said with a smile, sending Dot a look of sympathy when Phryne's face was turned. They both knew driving with Phryne behind the wheel was very similar to being on a roller coaster. Dot had never enjoyed roller coasters.

There was nothing you could do, Dot's face told him. She climbed into the passenger side with a look similar to that of Hugh's when he'd entered Jack's office.

Mr Butler and Jane waved them goodbye, seeing Dot holding into her rosary and muttering prayers. Though he did not believe in such things, Mr Butler said a prayer for her himself.

.

"The gardener found him sir," Hugh explained. "A Mr…" he checked his notes "Bob Tremain."

"Where is he?"

"Over there sir," Hugh said, nodding to a man leaning against the garden shed. He was smoking a gasper and looked like he had seen a ghost. His face was completely devoid of color other than his shaggy grey beard.

Jack turned towards the man who had, upon seeing the important looking policeman approaching, stubbed out his cigarette and stood up straight. "You're the man in charge?"

"I am," Jack told him. "Mr Tremain, you found her this morning?"

"I did. She was in the back room. I don't go in there often."

"What brought you to go in today?"

"The smell," he replied, whitening again at the memory. "I noticed it a few days ago but thought nothing of it, dead animal or something, but it got too bad to be ignored. Thought I'd check it out."

"And did you recognize the woman you found?"

"Don't reckon I've ever seen 'er before," he said sadly, "but that don't mean much. I don't go near the house much. Like to keep to m'self."

Jack thanked him then made a beeline for the shed, Hugh on his heel. The gardener lit another cigarette and returned to his original position.

"Her name is Miss Amberlynn McCloud," Hugh read from his notes, not looking down at the body that lay on the wooden floor. "Twenty-year old housemaid."

"I'd place the stab wound in her throat as the cause of death," Dr Morgan said from the ground beside the body. He was dressed as one would expect a doctor to be dressed, examining the body with glove-covered hands. "But I cannot say that conclusively before I've given her an autopsy."

"I expect no less," Jack nodded. The smell really was overwhelming, but he did not allow his disgust to show. Hugh, on the other hand, was finding it difficult not to hurl.

"No Miss Fisher today?" Dr Morgan asked simply. He had not originally liked the fashionable woman with flowery perfume, but had grown accustomed to her. Jack felt similarly.

"Miss Fisher has gone on a hunting trip," Hugh said, happy to provide an answer and to be speaking of a topic over than the dead girl who was producing the awful odor as her body broke down.

Jack looked at him momentarily then back at the body. He wondered how he had known, then ascertained that Miss Williams would have likely told him.

"Her perfume would be appreciated at a time like this," Dr Morgan commented, then returned his attention to the body that lay before him.

Jack had to agree, but found if her were to think about Phryne's perfume, he began down a slippery slope which led to memories of holding her, of kissing her, and of doing other things to her which were certainly not things to be thinking about when one was in a shed that smelt of rotting flesh, standing over the dead body of a girl who would have been pretty when she was among the living. He told himself to place his attention on solving the murder.

He searched the room for anything which gave hint to the reason a housemaid was in the garden shed but found nothing other than gardening supplies. None seemed sharp enough to do the damage which was done to the girl's throat, but he instructed Collins to bag some that could have been used.

"Did she have anything on her?" Jack asked anybody in particular.

"No sir," Hugh replied. "Just a broken watch."

"Broken how?"

"The glass has been smashed sir."

"What time does it show?"

"Sir?" Hugh asked, confused.

"What time Collins?" Jack asked again, harsher this time. He hadn't time to explain.

Cringing, Hugh picked up the dead girl's wrist to check. He tried to ignore the cold, clammy feel of her skin. "Quarter past eight," Hugh answered, endeavoring not to lose his breakfast. He promptly replaced the girl's wrist.

Was that quarter past eight in the morning, or the evening? Jack asked himself.

Jack looked to Morgan who shrugged. "Sorry Detective-Inspector, I can't give you an estimation as to when she died as of yet. Even when I do, I likely won't be able to tell you whether that was morning or afternoon."

Jack sighed but accepted the information. He examined the room again then declared to Hugh that they should go interview the members of the house.

.

"It's this one Miss!" Dot yelled over the roar of the Hispano-Suiza.

Phryne turned the car on a dime and was quickly spending down a long driveway towards a large manor. It was fronted by a large portico and had large wings sticking out of it for miles. This was not the estate which Phryne had expected from the prestigious Elijah Everwood, whom came from old money which had likely dwindled away over the years. Somebody, Phryne mused, had married well.

She pushed her foot down on the break and came to a halt outside the front door. Dot forced herself to resist the urge to jump from the vehicle and kiss the ground.

"She's a beaut," a worked said as he came to park the car for them.

"That she is," Phryne smiled as she handed over the keys. "Put one mark on her and the cook will be serving up your delicate parts for dinner," she added in the same tone.

The man gulped. Good, Phryne thought, it appeared he understood perfectly.

Other men come to remove her many bags then her car was driven away at a speed no faster than a man could walk.

Phryne was met at the door by a butler who smiled and informed her than her room was in the west wing, second on the left. He added that he would escort her there. For this, Phryne was thankful.

The room was surprisingly decadent, made with dark colors and warm woods. Perfect, Phryne mused, for seduction. She wondered if that had been her reason for her placement in this room in particular. It truly was superb. All that was missing was an attractive young man lying across the bed wearing nothing but a smile.

"Oh, it's magnificent," Dot mused as she entered the room behind her. Dot, clearly, was not missing the nude young man.

"That it is. Now, I'm going to explore. Would you lke to come with me or stay here?"

"Oh I'll stay here Miss," Dot smiled, already beginning to work on unpacking. "I'll make sure all your clothes are away."

"Very good Dot dear," Phryne smiled, then was out the door with a "toodle-pip".

.

"Cousin Phryne!"

Phryne had barely made it halfway up the flight of stairs in the entrance all when she was spotted. She turned and saw Guy standing at the bottom. Phryne wondered why her aunt had no felt the need to inform her that her cousin would be in attendance.

"Guy!" She exclaimed, almost genuinely, and ran back down the stairs to embrace him. He smelt, as usual, even better than she.

"How long have you been here?" He asked, presenting is elbow for her to hold. She did so. He led her in the exact opposite direction to that in which she had been headed, but it did not bother her. She was simply keen to see the manor that she would be residing in for the next week, the direction which she went about it did not matter. Although there was sure to be no trouble, Phryne liked being able to know her way around in case she had to escape in a run at night.

"Less than five minutes."

"Then you have yet to meet our fellow guests?"

Something in his tone made Phryne weary. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at his grin. "Are there any other than us under the age of fifty?" Not that she minded all that much. In her experience, the older made better conversation and were less prone to tantrums.

"Perhaps one," Guy grinned, "one cannot often tell with these women who have been married such a long time. Such an unnatural act is sure to make one appear much older than their years."

"Most certainly," Phryne agreed.

They stepped down into a large seating area and Phryne knew exactly what her cousin had meant. She did not need to worry about the possibility of finding somebody to warm her bed – who would cause her later guilt as she had yet to clarify her situation with Jack – as there was no possibilities whatsoever.

Apparently Guy noticed her thoughts as he laughed and squeezed her arm. "There are a few good looking stable boys," he informed her, "just in case you cannot last the week."

Phryne was not given chance to reply. As soon as they were spotted by Aunt Prudence, Phryne was removed from Guy's muscular arm and introduced around in whirlwind fashion. She first met the hosts, Mr and Mrs Elijah Everwood, who seemed happy enough. They would have been great company in their prime, some twenty or thirty years in the past. Phryne would, if she were a betting woman, put money on the fact that they would be filled of interesting stories of life before the Great War. Phryne recognized in Mrs Everwood's eye the same gleam she saw every morning in the mirror.

Next were Mr and Mrs Gerald Campbell. They too were not young, but younger than the hosts. Phryne viewed them optimistically. She smelt of strong French perfume, applied a little too liberally for her taste, and him the classic smell of older gentlemen: peppermint and cigars. Mr Campbell picked up her hand to kiss it and muttered something which Phryne did not catch, but his tone was heard loud and clear. His wife shied away sadly. Phryne had no problem with older men, and in fact often enjoyed them, but she had rules against the married – that she'd only broken on very rare an occasion. There was complication with taking a married man to bed and Phryne did not enjoy complication when it came to lovers. So why, she mused, was she so keen to get involved with Jack Robinson, a relationship bound to be filled with complications? Clearly she had lost her mind. She wondered if she should be worried that she didn't seem to care.

"_Professor_ Matthew Reagan," Aunt Prudence said with a sparkle in her eye present whenever she introduced Phryne to any man even remotely eligible, drawing her out of her musing.

Last to be introduced, Professor Matthew Reagan was a man about the same age as Mr Campbell but without a wedding ring or wandering eye. He seemed quite agreeable and Phryne wondered why he was not married. She supposed many would ask the same about her. She wondered briefly if his reason was similar to her's.

A small party for a hunt, Phryne thought to herself, but smiled and sat with those who would be keeping her company for the next week. You could not have a hunt with a mere eight people – seven as it was very unlikely her aunt would mount anything, not even a horse. However, Phryne had been informed it would be an intimate company.

"There are more to come," her Aunt Prudence assured her.

Phryne wondered when she had become so transparent and told herself she would have to work on becoming less patent.

. . .

xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Three

. . .

"Mr and Mrs Campbell are away at the present moment," the butler informed Jack and Hugh as he escorted the two policemen inside. He was not disposed to like policemen, but did not show it.

The house was clean, but sported rectangular spots on the walls that had not previously been exposed to sunlight. Jack recognized this as a sign the owners had been required to sell a few paintings to support their lifestyle. The Campbells, it appeared, did not have as much money as they once had. Jack judged this as irrelevant information at the present, but banked it away in case it would be later needed.

"When will they be back?" Jack asked.

"Not for at least a week."

"How long have they been away?"

"They left yesterday."

The butler replied quickly and sharply to all of Jack's questions. He was good at his job. He would not lie to the police, he would not even refuse to answer, but he would not tell them any more than the minimum their questions required. Jack recognized this.

"Where would I locate them?"

The butler did not look happy, but answered, "The Everwood estate."

Jack nodded and looked at Hugh to ensure he had written that down, though they were both unlikely to forget. It was good to have the notes written down and would aid Hugh in later writing his report. The young constable's eyes were glued to his notepad and his lips mouthed out the words he noted them down.

"What was your opinion of Miss McCloud?" Jack asked.

"I did not have one," he said simply, then thought about it and expanded. He would not talk about his employers, but he saw no reason why he couldn't talk about Amber. "She's been with us a year now, always did her job, but one got the impression she felt she was above the work."

Jack considered this for a moment. He didn't suppose it was uncommon for a housemaid to not enjoy being a maid. Certainly he would not enjoy having to clean up after others who usually wouldn't appreciate the effort. "Did she have any problem with anybody in particular, that you were aware of?"

"No," the answer was short and simple. Jack saw the man's face smile slightly when they came across a young woman dressed in a plain maid's uniform, her hair tied back into a lose plait. Jack identified the smile as nothing more than relief in finding somebody to take the policemen off his hands. "Ah Miss Squire," he smiled, then turning to the policemen explained, "Miss McCloud's roommate. These policemen are investigating Miss McCloud's death and would like to ask some questions. Why don't you escort them down to the kitchen and get them some tea?"

"Yes sir," the girl answered. She had the voice of a woman much older than she looked, raspy and strongly Australian. She smiled wearily at Jack and Hugh. "Come with me."

"Were you and Miss McCloud close?" Jack asked once they were all seated around the kitchen table with tea and biscuits. He had waited until the girl was halfway through her tea before he had asked. In his experience, tea near always helped to settle one's nerves and clear the mind.

"Not really," Miss Squire answered sadly, biting into one of the ginger biscuits that were fresh out of the oven. "Amber weren't really close with nobody I don't think. She always talked about getting outta here and see'n the world, becoming a model, or something like that. Not many people liked her 'cause of it."

"Was there anybody in particular who she went to toes with?" Next to the young maid, his voice sounded crisp and educated.

"Not nobody more so than anybody else," she supposed.

"And when did you last see her?"

"Three days ago? It was just before bed. She said she was going out for a walk and I went straight to bed. Didn't think much of it. Weird one she was, always going for walks at night. When I woke up, there 'er bed was, not slept in."

"And you didn't find that strange?"

"Nah. I always reckoned she'd run away and I reckoned she'd finally done it. I didn't… think that… ya know." She stopped and drank her tea.

They all finished their drinks then went to inspect the room that Miss Squire and Miss McCloud shared. It was about the size of a cupboard, not big enough for one human being let alone two. Jack told Hugh to wait outside for there wouldn't have been room to move with him inside with them. Going through the draws one-by-one, Jack found the expected number of brown dresses, one dancing dress which look both out of place and badly made – nothing, Jack thought, like the marvels of Phryne's wardrobe, but he pushed the thought of Phryne dress seductively in fine silks and beading from his mind – and a bundle of mended stockings which were not mended all too well. At the bottom of the draw he found a device similar to one Phryne used when he... stayed the night. He gulped then turned to Miss Squire would was watching him intensely.

"Was Miss McCloud involved with anybody?" He asked her.

"Always went on about this rich man she was seeing. He was 'spose to be 'er ticket outta here."

"And idea who he was?"

"None."

Jack continued his search of the room and located, in the mattress, a stash of personal property. In the stash were a note and a necklace.

_See you tonight, the usual spot. 0800._

That explained what the girl who doing out in the shed and the time on her watch. She was meeting somebody, likely a lover, but possibly somebody else. Dr Morgan's report would tell them whether the girl had been penetrated prior to her death. A love affair gone wrong? A jealous partner? Or was it something more sinister?

Jack picked up the pearl necklace and strung it through his fingers. He did not have Phryne's uncanny ability to tell real from fake, but he expected, for some reason unknown to him, that they were real. A family heirloom, or did Miss McCloud truly have a wealthy lover?

He thanked Miss Squire for her time and showed himself and Hugh out of the large house.

"What now?" He asked Collins. He was feeling slightly less angry now that he was in the familiar swing of working a case, even if Phryne weren't there by his side, and decided to give the young Constable a chance.

"Sir?"

"What's our next step Collins?"

A deep crease formed in Hugh's brow as he thought. "We interview the owners of the house?"

"And why would we do that?" Jack asked him, "If those who worked with her didn't know anything much of use, why would her employers?"

"Well, if she was involved with somebody wealthy, it's likely it was either her employer or a friend of his. Where else would she meet somebody wealthy?"

Jack accepted this reasoning with a nod and climbed into the car. Hugh didn't do very well at trying to hide a proud smile.

.

"And tomorrow the blood sport begins?" Phryne asked. She stood outside with Guy on the terrace, overlooking the land that belong to the Everwood's and smoking a meditative cigarette. The Everwoods' really did have mammoth grounds, well kept and beautifully manicured.

"Oh don't tell me you've gone funny Phryne."

"What?" She posed, hip resting on the railing. "I simply do not think it fun to chase and kill a fox that we already have in custody."

"You don't mind wearing its fur."

"Well of course not. I simply don't see the point in making a sport out of it." However, Phryne did not see the point in most sports. All they seemed to do was tire out young men and make them sweaty when they could achieve the same through much more pleasurable activities.

"At least we are giving it a chance to live. What would you suggest? That we simply kill it for its fur without the chance for survival?" Guy posed, simply as an attempt to get a rise out of his cousin.

"At least then the fox won't have to be ripped apart at the seams."

"I believe, cousin dear, that we shall have to agree to disagree on this matter," Guy said diplomatically.

"I agree that you are wrong," Phryne said simply, disposing of her cigarette stub. She placed another cigarette in her mouth a leant over to let Guy light it for her.

"Isabella would feel the same," Guy commented, lighting his own.

"And where is your darling Isabella this week?" Phryne asked. She'd been, not excited but… happy in the idea of getting to know her cousin's intended better, but it appeared she was not in attendance.

"Paris, I believe." He did not seem worried that she was halfway around the world in a city known for it's more erotic qualities. This did not surprise Phryne. Guy, she mused, was the type of man women like her and Isabella liked. "She preferred Paris to here."

"Who wouldn't?" Phryne asked rhetorically then laughed. "Silly question. Me, it would appear. And you Guy?"

"More fear of my mother than preference."

Phryne laughed. She had thought as much. Guy was much more suited to Paris, with his beautiful Isabella, surrounded by wine and sex, than in an isolated estate in the middle of Australian farmland. What, she wondered, made her feel as if she were not the same?

"What are we talking about?" A man asked. The two cousins turned to see the professor coming to join them.

"The cruelty to foxes that is hunting," Phryne supplied.

Being a professor, he quickly jumped in to inform that all about the history of fox hunting. Phryne managed to look interested and took in the information. One never knew when information would prove itself useful, though Phryne had doubts she would ever need to know the origins of a blood sport that she very rarely took part in. Guy, on the other hand, rolled his eyes. Phryne elbowed him not all too lightly.

"Teaches our men how to shoot from horseback," Gerald Campbell stated, joining there conversation. He loved to stand out and enjoy the view of all that he owned. He liked to know others enjoyed it also.

Phryne mused that for the men she'd seen to, knowing how to ride and shoot at the same time was the least of their worries. They were more concerned with not getting their heads blown off. However, she kept silent and simply nodded.

She was relieved to be released to get dressed for dinner.

. . .

I do hope very much that you are enjoying it so far. It may seem as if there is little Phryne x Jack happening  
at the moment, but don't you worry, it will come.

xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Four

. . .

Dinner consisted of meat from the estate's livestock and vegetables from the estate's farm, seasoned by herbs from the estate's garden. It tasted marvelous but Phryne believed that was more to the credit of the chef than the estate's produce. She made a mental note to send her praise.

Phryne was seated beside Mrs Everwood - "please, call me Elaine" - and across from Aunt Prudence. She briefly wondered about the alliteration of the woman's name and mentioned it.

Elaine laughed. "It's better than Ellis," she informed Phryne, "my maiden name. And Baine. I once met a man at a dance club, very handsome, but when I learnt his surname was Baine I ran in the opposite direction."

Phryne smiled. She liked this woman. They went about discussing various dance clubs and various men. Aunt Prudence made clear that she felt the conversation was distasteful. Phryne and Elaine shared a look common of sisters, not women who had only just met and were separated by at least thirty years, and carried on their conversation.

Down the table, Phryne noticed Guy making quick work of turning Mrs Campbell weak at the knees. He didn't waste any time, Phryne thought with a sly smile. Mr Campbell didn't look all that happy, but he was preoccupied in a deep, philosophical discussion with professor which he seemed unable to escape.

After dinner they retired to the library for drinks, which Phryne indulged in, but she did not seem able to keep her attention focused on the conversation. Her mind kept flicking to Jack. She wondered who had been murdered and how he was going about finding the murderer. She missed him entirely too much to be healthy. She tried to keep conversation but ended up excusing herself early to go to bed and dream that Jack was there with her.

.

Phryne woke the next morning to hear the hammering of rain again the windows of the bedroom. She stifled an exuberant whippee. They could not expect one to go out on a hunt in this weather.

"It's raining!" Phryne said ecstatically when Dot entered the room. She eyed her employer suspiciously. Had she gone mad since she saw her last? Dot wondered what a mad person's smile would look like and compared the mental image to how her Miss Phryne looked, covered up in sheets and beaming.

Dot wasn't sure.

"Yes Miss, it is," she said simply, obviously worried.

Phryne laughed at the girl's face and cuddled herself deeper into the sheets. She decided to explain. "Do you know what that means Dot?"

Dot had absolutely no idea, other than that the humidity the rain brought with it would be dire, turning her hair into a bush. Phryne's hair, she thought with envy that she would later have to confess, would be absolutely fine. "Can't say I do Miss," she replied.

Phryne watched her as she magically turned her thrown, wrinkled clothes that had been discarded carelessly by Phryne the night before into clean folds which would be ready to wear when they were next required.

"It means no hunt," Phyrne smiled, "at least for today."

Dot smiled. She liked the idea that the merciless killing of a poor fox would be postponed. "What will you be doing today then Miss?"

"I think," Phryne said slowly, her voice oozing the luxury of not being in a rush, "I shall have a bath, with the orange blossom salts, then curl up in the library with Chaucer as my only company."

"Very good Miss. I'll draw you that bath."

Phryne lay back in the sheets and embraced their warmth.

.

Jack sat behind his desk reading over the autopsy report. He kept expecting for Phryne to sweep through his door and snatch it from his hand. But she did not. It appeared that Amberlynn McCloud had indeed been killed by a stab wound to the throat and that she had indeed participated in intercourse before her death. The intercourse did not appear to have been forced. Jack wondered why she hadn't been wearing the contraceptive device that sat in her draw if she was meeting a lover, with plans to do things with said lover. Unless she had another one. Or she wasn't meeting a lover. Did women have multiple devices? Jack made a mental note to ask Phryne then mentally scribbled it out violently. He would not be asking Phryne about that. Perhaps he would go ask Dr Mac.

Better now than later, he thought. He tossed on his hat, grabbed his coat, and was out the door with a short explanation to Collins. Hugh stood up just as the door swung shut and promptly returned his behind to his seat and his fingers to the typewriter upon which he was typing his report. Jack appreciated the young man greatly, but he was unlikely to be able to fathom the subjects which Jack was planning on discussing with Dr Mac. He wasn't even sure he would understand.

Mac's eyebrows shot up in a way far too similar to how Phryne's did when Jack walked through the door into her hospital. He looked entirely uncomfortable and Mac gave him a soft smile. In her profession, Mac was used to dealing with men feeling uncomfortable.

"What can I do for you inspector?" she asked, slipping off her gloves and leading him into her office.

"Some questions."

"Yes?"

Jack swallowed the lump in his throat. "Do women have…" he searched for the correct words to use. He was usually a quite straightforward man, but his limit came with this subject. Mac tried not to smile too broadly. If this man was going to get involved with her Phryne, he was going to have to get over his diffidence. "Is it common for…" He shut his eyes and sighed. When he looked up at Mac he noticed her smile. He shook his head. "Contraceptive devices," he said finally. "Is it common for women to have multiple contraceptive devices?"

"Some women use different types of contraceptive devices at the same time," Mac said carefully, "in order to be entirely sure that they don't conceive."

"So contraceptive devices don't always work?" Jack asked shocked. His eyes were wide.

Mac gave him a look that asked if he could really be so ignorant, but answered, "Not always, no. There is always room for doubt."

Jack took in this information with a swallow. He felt he should have been aware of this before he stayed the night in Phryne's bed. He told himself to put the thought away and get back to the case. Mac did not miss the fear that flickered in his chocolate eyes.

"Why would a woman go for a meeting with a lover but leave her… device, in her room?"

Mac considered a moment. "Well, first, it is unlikely she had two of the same device. She may have made use of another device, also unlikely as a diaphragm is the best that she could use. I take it that's what we're speaking of?" Jack nodded. "I would say that she'd chosen not to use contraception." Jack looked confused and Mac had to laugh. "Generally women don't use contraception when they're trying to conceive."

Jack understood this and nodded. "So Miss McCloud had been trying to get pregnant, with her secret lover," he thought aloud.

"One of two reasons a woman would do that," Mac mused.

Jack raised his eyebrows as a signal for her to continue. He only knew of one.

"To force him to marry her or give her money. Or because she really is delirious enough to believe that a baby will fix all her problems."

Jack thanked the doctor for her time and headed back to the office. He wondered if Amberlynn McCloud was the delirious kind or the conniving kind.

.

Phryne was happily nestled in the library translating her Chaucer, a cat of the household curled up at her feet, when her peace was interrupted by her energetic cousin.

"Phryne darling!"

"Yes Guy," she sighed. She could tell by his tone that he wanted something and she really wasn't in the mood to give.

"I though I would introduce you to the son of the household," he said with a wicked smile.

A young man entered the room, just out of puberty, a beautiful age in Phryne's opinion. His hair was the colour of cornflower, rather in need of a cut, and his eyes a light blue. Phryne had always found herself inclined to like men with eyes of his color.

"Nathaniel Everwood, meet the hon. Miss Phryne Fisher," Guy instructed. The young man took the hand Phryne offered and kissed it. "Phryne, meet Nathaniel Everwood."

"_Enchante_," the boy said with eyes that belonged only in the bedroom. Apparently somebody had told Nathaniel that women often went weak at the knees for a man who spoke French. It was true in most cases, but Phryne never went weak at the knees for anybody, other than, perhaps, Jack Robinson.

She caught Guy's wink and laughed despite herself. "The pleasure is mine Mr Everwood."

"Nathaniel, please."

"Then you must call be Phryne," Phryne smiled, happy to have the pleasantries done with.

"Nathaniel and I were just about to go for a swim in the river," Guy said taking the boys arm. Phryne wondered if the young boy noticed her cousin's obvious attraction. Probably not. Young men often seemed oblivious to moves made by those of their same sex. "Care to join us?"

"It's raining," she said by manner of explanation. She was still sitting in the library cuddled up and really did not have any intention of moving.

"You really _have_ gone funny…"

"I will not be convinced to come based on the silly idea that I am not who I once was as I happen to be _exactly_ who I once was," Phryne said simply. "I much prefer being inside when it is raining."

"Where is your sense of adventure?"

"Packed away for when it is practical." Only Guy, she mused, made her look sensible.

"Come on Phryne," he pleaded. His eyes were like that of a child pleading with his mother for icecream. Phryne had never found herself particularly susceptible to such looks but found her resolve weakening.

"Please come," Nathaniel added, the same look on his face. His rendition was much more effective.

Phryne sighed and both men knew they had won.

"Fine. Just let me go up and get change into my bathing costume."

. . .

xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Five

. . .

Dot looked at her wearily. Perhaps Miss Phryne had indeed gone mad.

"But Miss, it's _raining_."

"Yes Dot, I realize."

Phryne did not further elaborate and Dot did not feel the need to ask further questions. It wasn't as if Miss Phryne would catch a cold in this weather. Despite the rain, it was still hot, just in a muggy way that seemed almost worse than the usual dry heat.

Phryne, dressed in a tight red bathing costume that revealed her back, covered by a light silk gown of a similar color that really couldn't have been said to cover anything, met Guy and Nathaniel at the door. Nathaniel looked at her as if she were a dessert that he wouldn't mind to eat and she accepted the look happily. Even if she could not give herself over to the young man, there was nothing wrong with a little flirting, and he really was rather yummy himself. But not, she mused with a sigh, anything like the inspector. Had she really been ruined for all other men? What a nuisance that would be as she was sure she hadn't had half as many men in her lifetime as she planned.

Guy swung open then door, letting in a humid billow of summer air that snapped her back to the present. "Race you!"

He was gone.

Phryne, never one to lose a race, took off after him before taking even a moment to think. She was soaked through within seconds. Had she been one to believe in regrets, she might have been regretting the idea already. However, she was not, and so she let out a shout of happiness. Nathaniel mirrored this with a "whoop".

They followed Guy through the beginnings of forest then spotted the river. Phryne discarded her robe whilst running and dived straight in, only seconds after Guy. Nathaniel followed her in seconds later.

The water was pleasantly cool but not in the shocking way it was in winter. Phryne was thankful she had come. The sweat that had already built on her skin in simply sitting inside on such a day was washed from her and her body temperature dropped from unpleasantly hot to pleasantly so.

She kicked up and lay on her back. The trees above stopped the majority of the rain getting to them, despite how heavily it was pouring, and only occasionally did a droplet fall onto Phryne's ivory skin. Nathaniel watched her, enchanted. Guy didn't miss the look and patted the boy on the back. His cousin was truly beautiful. Phryne noticed their stares but ignored them.

Her mind drifted and focused on Jack. She missed him. It had been all of a day and she missed him. _Clearly_, there was something wrong with her. She wondered if she would ever swim with him, floating side-by-side on cool water, making love on the muddy bank then jumping back in the clean their skin. She didn't believe Jack was the make love under the clouds type of man, but one never knew with that policeman. He always seemed to surprise her. His face disappeared from her mind as she was dunked under the water. Her mind quickly registered the attack and under the water she prepared herself to retaliate.

She rose with a laugh and made quick work of returning her cousin the favor. A water fight ensued like the one's she had had when she was a young kid. She couldn't help imagine having a similar play fight with Jack, which would, of course, result in love making, either in the water or on the bank. She would leave that choice up to him.

. . .

I have discovered that I have more Jack and Phryne in separate settings than I had originally plan but trust me, they will soon be reunited and when they are you shan't be disappointed.

xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Six

. . .

Phryne woke the day of the hunt feeling decidedly against going hunting. The day had only just begun and she was already covered in sweat and yearning to dive into a bathtub of ice. She only briefly considered asking one of the staff if it could be arranged. Australian summers were completely different to the summers of Europe. Phryne honestly felt as if she would never cool down. Why then, she wondered, would she want to go riding around on a horse in heavy riding wear, under the blazing sun, exerting all her energy? She came up blank.

She ate her breakfast heartily in the company of Guy, Nathaniel and Mr Campbell - none of which had ever seen a woman so tiny eat so much - knowing she would need all the food she could stomach to keep her from passing out in the heat, then returned to her room to be dressed by Dot.

"Are you sure you want to go out riding in this heat?" Dot asked. She was worried about her Miss Phryne. Surely it wasn't good for one's health to go riding in such heat.

"I'm sure I do _not_ want to go riding in this heat Dot. But I shall. Then I shall return, don by bathing costume, and spend the rest of the afternoon swimming."

"Well be careful Miss."

"I'm always careful," Phryne chirped.

Dot wholeheartedly disagreed.

Phryne met the rest of the party outside and they headed towards the stables. Professor Reagan was retelling to different ears the history of hunting. Phryne wondered if he had studied up on the subject with the single intention of impressing those in his company at their little gathering. Guy was talking to a blushing Mrs Campbell. Was Guy trying to woo the woman with his husband right there? Mr Campbell did not look impressed. Since the first day their small party had grown by three: young Mr Everwood and Mr and Mrs Frederick Burton. However, that did not greatly improve the size of their hunting party as Aunt Prudence and Elaine Everwood had remained at the house, deeming the exercise too masculine. Phryne imagined Elaine would have loved to participate, but had chosen keep Prudence company, or rather, was made to do so based on social expectation. Social expectation, Phryne mused, had been getting in the way of woman doing as they pleased for far too long and would probably _continue_ for far too long into the future.

Phryne was led to her mount and looked at the mare in shock. She was a beautiful, muscular chestnut with kind eyes. But her back was a good head taller than even Phryne.

"She's a kind beast," the stable hand assured her. Obviously he had bore witness to the great shock in her eyes. "Ginger's 'er name."

Phryne looked into the mare's eyes and came to the same conclusion. She ran a gloved hand down the horse's muscular neck and whispered to her, "I would appreciate it if you didn't throw me off. It is rather a long way down." The horse neighed. "I shall take that as your word."

"Leg up Miss?" The stable hand asked.

"No thank you," Phryne said simply, then swung herself up onto the horse's tall back just as simply. The stable hand looked impressed. The mare played around a little but was quickly under the control of Phryne's hands on the reigns and legs wrapped around her belly. "I'll have none of that," she told the horse matter-of-factly. The horse listened as all did when they were directed by the Hon. Miss Phryne Fisher.

"They've got you on the biggest one," Guy laughed as she walked the horse up to meet them. Guy himself was on a short old horse who would not give him any trouble. His childhood trauma was not forgotten. Phryne was surprised he had gotten on a horse at all. Why on earth, she wondered, would a man afraid of horses travel halfway around the word for a hunt? Phryne could find no possible feasible explanation.

"I like them big," Phryne said simply and Guy's laughter turned into a roar. Nathaniel appear confused, as if trying to work out what Phryne hard said, surely she hadn't said what he though he had heard. "I see you mount is…" she searched for the right word.

"Old?" Guy supplied.

"… unlikely to give you much trouble," Phryne decided.

"But not unable."

"Guy here had a trauma involving a small pony when he was very young," Phryne explained to Nathaniel. They were standing around in wait for the rest of party to get mounted. What, Phryne wondered, took somebody so long to get up on a horse's back? It wasn't as if they had to saddle the creatures themselves. "He's been afraid of them ever since."

"Not afraid," Guy said in his defense. "I merely do not enjoy their company.

Phryne pursed her lips mischievously, "Yes Guy, of course." She winked at Nathaniel who laughed.

His mount was shorter than Phryne's but still on the tall side. It's black coat shone in the sunlight with no spots or nips of white to blemish it. Phryne determined the horse would have cost him or his parents - most likely the latter - a pretty penny.

"His name's Brutus," Nathaniel informed her, noticing her gaze. "He's only recently been gelded." Guy looked at the horse sympathetically. "He's your Ginger's father. Good breeding, this one, but not afraid of the Australian wildlife like many of the horses brought over form Europe. Irish hunter, he is. Pure-bred."

"Of course," Phryne said as if she was being genuine when inside her head the words dripped with sarcasm.

"Are we ready?" Elijah Everwood called out from the front, grabbing everybody's attention. Guy and Nathaniel were handed muskets. Phryne politely refused. There was a chorus of agreement and a cage was brought out, containing a rather scared looking fox. Had Phryne been Catholic, she would have crossed herself. She nearly did regardless.

"Poor thing," Phryne muttered, believing nobody could hear her.

"He's likely to get away," Nathaniel assured her, his gaze sympathetic. If Phryne's mind were not preoccupied with Jack Robinson she might have been affected by the boy's gentle smile.

Beneath Phryne's seat, Ginger trotted on the spot. It was clearly not her first time on the hunt and she was rearing to go. The dogs barked and pulled.

The fox was let go. They waited the expected thirty seconds, then they were off after it.

Ginger had a lovely smooth gait as they raced over the field towards the forest. Beside her, Nathaniel rode at the same pace. Guy was a good three horse lengths behind them. The woodland quickly captured them. As was common in hunts, there was confusion as everybody realized racing was useless and slowed to look for the fox. The dogs led.

"This way," Nathaniel said quietly enough that only Phryne could hear. There was a gleam in his eye that caught her and she agreed. She began to follow him when shooting broke out. "Let them play with their guns," he told her, still urging that she follow him. Phryne did so, but with a feeling she was doing something naughty. She resented the feeling and told it to please go away. There was absolutely nothing wrong with going a separate way to the others, even if it were alone with a handsome young man who clearly had eyes for her.

They were alone in a clearing when another bout of shooting began. Phryne said a prayer for the fox. Nathaniel had dismounted - it appeared if he had plans for further riding it wasn't going to be of the horse - and Phryne was about to when she heard the scream. It split through the forest over the shooting then everything lapsed into silence. Her eyes went wide. Before Nathaniel could say anything, Phryne was turning Ginger towards the sound and racing.

She found Guy on the ground, blood pouring from his side. The professor was beside him, holding him. There was overall confusion. Phryne didn't have time to ask who had shot her cousin. She dropped to his side.

"Guy?" she asked, cupping his face with her hand. She looked into his eyes and saw, thankfully, that they were still fully responsive.

"I've been shot," he murmured.

"Yes you have," she told him, rubbing circles on his cheek with her thumb. She thought quickly and knew, from the amount of blood he was losing, that he could bleed out, even though, from the area were the blood was pouring, it was the bullet would not have hit any of the major organs. She had to get him to a doctor and quickly. "Help me get him up on my horse," she instructed the professor.

"But…"

"What do you suggest, that we leave him here in the middle of the forest?" Phryne was not in the mood to be questioned. "I have the biggest horse. Do you have a valid reason against me taking him other than 'but'?"

"Well, no…"

"Good."

Phryne mounted the horse with flair then aided the professor, and now Nathaniel, in dragging Guy up behind her. She wondered why nobody else was helping but put it down to shock. The dogs barked. She briefly took stock and saw everybody looking relatively the same, everybody looking worried, nobody looking particularly guilty. Perhaps it was just an accident. Phryne didn't believe it for a moment, but she supposed it could be a possibility.

"Hold onto me as tightly as possible," Phryne instructed Guy once he was mounted.

He did so.

"I wonder how many men who've told that to," Guy mused jokingly, though his voice was raspy. Getting shot will do that to you.

"About as many as you have," she replied jokingly, managing to hide from her voice any of her fear or worry.

When Phryne was sure that he would not fall off, she dug her heels into the sides of the horse and it sprung to life beneath her. It did not fail a stride, clearly aware that Phryne meant business and said business was of grave importance.

Phryne felt sick with grief which she decided to express through anger, much less exhausting than the tears and whining chosen by most of the female sex in such situations. Her knuckles were white over the reigns and her teeth were clenched. She was near sure somebody had shot her cousin for a reason, not on mere accident. She had no grounds for said belief, but she had learnt that her gut was to be trusted.

They emerged from the forestry and the horse ate up the ground towards the house.

.

Jack, flanked by Hugh, walked out of the huge house and onto a paved area which overlooked the ground. To the left was a stable complex, complete with arena, and on the other side of a rather large field, possibly the size of St. Kilda, was a Forrest where, the housekeeper informed him, the guests were hunting. He briefly imagined what it would be like to live in such a place but found that his mind could not picture it. Phryne, he mused, would fit perfectly into such an abode.

The housekeeper brought tea and the two policemen sat down at a table overlooking the view.

Jack had only just sat down when he saw a horse break through the foliage. It was coming towards them at great speed. On its back, Jack quickly recognized, was Phryne, and she had another person on the horse with her. Although he had not been told Phryne would be here, and had refused to ask Constable Collins at risk of embarrassing himself, he was not at all surprised by her presence. And Collins' lack of surprise confirmed that he had been aware. She had an uncanny ability at showing up in the middle of a case with no explanation and a mischievous smile.

She didn't veer towards the stables. Jack looked on in confusion.

He heard her yell but couldn't make out the the words. He did, however, recognize the tone. Something was not right. He was out of his seat, over the railing and running towards Phryne before Hugh could even register what was happening. Some of the staff ran with him.

"Doctor!" she yelled, her voice raspy.

It was then that Jack saw the blood. He swallowed. He could only hope that, as Phryne was the one riding and yelling, it was not her, but her passenger, who was injured. His stomach ached at the prospect nonetheless. Why did she always put herself into situations that involved so much danger? He wished she would just stay at home out of harms way, but then she wouldn't be the woman he found himself so completely bewitched by.

"What happened?" he asked, fighting for control.

The staff helped the man behind Phryne to dismount then Phryne swung off. She didn't look at Jack but quickly found the hole in Guy's side and covered it with her hands. "Somebody shot him," she said simply because it was that simple. Jack pushed away the hurt that came from her disregard of him and told himself he was stupid for feeling such. Her cousin was shot for God's sakes, it wasn't as if her actions were a sign that she was done with him.

Phryne's mind, clouded by grief, anger and fear for her cousin, only realized who had asked the question after she had given answer. It was then that she looked up at Jack and felt her heart stop momentarily. He smile was brief but warming. Later, she told her body, and put her mind back to work at keeping the blood inside her cousin.

One of the staff took her mount to the stables and the rest of the party could be seen returning from the forest. The doctor arrived and took over from Phryne. She stepped back and examined the blood on her hands. She felt positively sick but refused to let it show. She wiped her hands on her pants in a manner more characteristic of a wharfie than a lady. The anger than she'd hadn't realized she'd shut away to deal with her cousin was coming back in spades and she needed to get away from people to deal with it.

Promptly, and without another word, Phryne turned on her heel and walked towards the house.

"Take statements from the rest of the party," Jack informed Hugh, his voice was sharp with anger than Hugh did not often hear in his superior but was slowly becoming used to. "I want to know who shot him."

"Yes sir!" Hugh practically saluted.

Hugh watched the riders arrive and Jack stalked off towards the house.

. . .

I feel now is the time to warn you that what is coming most definitely falls  
under the category of wishful thinking but there's nothing wrong with that.

I hope you're liking it so far and remember,  
reviews are the best views ;)

xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Seven

. . .

"Phryne," Jack scolded with shock as she promptly discarded her clothing. His eyes had gone wide and he tried not to choke at the beautiful sight. He did not think he would ever be used to such a sight as Phryne, particularly when she was barely clothed and displaying the majority of her ivory skin. He tried to ignore the red stains of blood which marked it. Instead, he examined the room which was large and regal and decorated in sensual dark colors which were very fitting for Phryne.

"Don't tell me you've become a prude whilst I've been away," she said harshly. She was not particularly in the mood for anything, having just witnessed the aftermath of a shooting and seen nothing of worth.

Jack didn't think himself a prude for wishing Phryne retained her clothing whilst he was trying to work. Rather, he simply wanted his mind to be able to focus on the case at hand.

"Not in the least," he managed, only just resisting the urge to go to her. Before his resolve could snap, Phryne had stalked off to her WC to clean away the blood. She was sure that no matter how hard she scrubbed she would still see her skin as being covered in red. She stopped only when her skin had passed feeling coarse and began to feel as if it would start bleeding for itself very shortly.

"Good," she said simply upon her return into the room. Then, feeling bad for being grumpy, popped over to give Jack a brief kiss before searching for something to put on. Jack really didn't no how to react.

"Tell me what happened," he said, taking a seat on the side of the bed to watch her. A dangerous activity when she was wearing as little as she was. But his worry outweighed his lust. Just. He could tell Phryne was having trouble but didn't know how he could possibly help her. He decided logic and problem solving would be his best bet.

Phryne gave up searching her clothing and looked over at Jack. There he sat, on her bed, his tie loose and his face marked with concern. She wanted to break down in tears. She, however, did not. Such an action was expected of her sex and found revolting by Phryne. She stood up straight, allowed a deep breath to enter her lungs and steady her, then proceeded to go over the events in great detail.

Jack did not re-mention the fact that she had been off following a young man at the time, but his hands curled into well-hidden fists when she spoke of it. He was well aware that Phryne attracted the entire male population, but he did not have to think about it. Any annoyance disappeared when Phryne started talking about finding guy. Although she spoke of it in a logical, almost scientific, way, Jack could tell she had been scared and worried. She was not, despite most appearances, invincible. Even he sometimes forgot that.

When she finished, Jack asked, "So nothing looked out of place? Nobody looked guilty?"

Phryne sighed and plopped herself down next to him. They didn't touch. "No."

"It could have been somebody waiting in the forest to take a shot," Jack suggested.

"I wasn't looking for anything suspicious," Phryne stated, searching her memory for _anything_ that was not quite right. _And was off with some man_, Jack added a little cruelly, though not aloud. Phryne came up blank. "But I didn't see anything."

Allowing herself the small comfort, she leaned over to rest her head on Jack's shoulder. He stiffened, but only briefly. For only a moment, she let herself relax. Then, as if flicking a switch, she was back to her usual self. She realized that Jack was not meant to be at the house and looked up at him in confusion. She asked him plainly.

"A murder," he said simply.

"What else?" She asked rhetorically,

They sat where they had been, Phryne looking up at him, but suddenly the mood changed. Jack became aware that she was all too close. Her body was just inches from his. He would only have to move slightly to capture her lips with his, to have her pressed hard against his body. Phryne watched as his pupils dilated and wondered if hers were doing the same at the thoughts of what they could be doing.

"How long are you staying?" she asked.

"As long as it takes to question my suspect."

"And what about Guy getting shot?"

"That'll be delt with by the local constabulary." This, Phryne thought, would not do.

But Phryne wasn't in the mood to talk about murders and shootings at the moment – a strange occurrence for the lady detective. And at that moment, Jack wasn't either. When Phryne reached up to kiss him, he pressed her against him then sent them both tumbling back onto the bed.

Phryne, already wearing only camiknickers, began to try and free Jack's body from his clothing. She was still feeling sick after Guy being shot and knew the one remedy that would heal her and clear her mind was a primal one. She ached to have Jack stripped and inside her, to hold him tight as he brought her to her peak and made her forget all else. Jack, however, was not so keen to do such when his constable was downstairs and the whole of the household knew that he was with her.

"Phryne," he murmured.

Her hands slid his clothed chest and over the crouch of his trousers. He tried very hard to stay above the water when every part of him wanted to sink.

"Phryne, stop. We can't."

"Why not?" she asked simply, taking a hold of his most delicate parts.

Jack gasped uncharacteristically. Phryne enjoyed the fact that she had such an effect over the man. She pressed her lips to the pulse that beat against the soft skin of his neck, nipped at it. He moaned.

"I have a murder to solve. Phryne, please."

Phryne rolled off with a sigh, releasing his favorite appendage. "I suppose."

Then she was up and getting dressed. Just like that. Jack felt entirely unsteady. He tried, and managed, to get himself to his feet, but he had to hold onto the dresser to keep himself from collapsing. His legs were not at all stable for walking on. His mind was clouded with exotic smoke, as was Phryne's effect on him. He told himself that he need to stop feeling this way or he would never solve a murder again. By the time Phryne was dressed he'd managed some sort of control over his own body.

"Who is it we're talking to?" Phryne asked.

She had dressed in trousers and her cornflower blouse. It was, she deemed, a non-nonsense outfit appropriate for one in her mood, which had been made somewhat better by Jack's presence.

Jack did not miss her use of the word 'we'.

He followed her as she lead the way from her bedroom to where the company would likely be seated, waiting.

"_I_ need to talk to Mr Campbell."

"In regards to…"

"A matter that his entirely none of your business."

"My favorite kind," she smiled wickedly. It appeared his Phryne had returned, Jack mused.

Whilst he was busy musing, Phryne had stepped through the door of the parlor where everybody was indeed waiting, sipping cups of tea spiked with hard liquor.

"We need to speak to Mr Campbell," she informed them.

. . .

Sorry guys for no updates yesterday as I had an exam (uni is exhausting) but to make up for it I _should_  
update again later today.

xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Eight

. . .

"What is this about?" Campbell asked Jack, looking at him for some sort of male comradeship. This, Phryne thought, was one of his first mistakes. Jack, unlike other officers on the force, was not influenced by wealth or gender. However, the fact that she was female had probably saved her from harsher reprimands for her meddlesome ways.

They sat in one of the smaller sitting rooms decorated in Phryne's favorite color: sea green. The wood was dark and warm, as it was in her bedroom. Truthfully, such dark colors were out of fashion now, but Phryne loved them dearly. They made one feel warm and sultry. The only problem with the room was the desire of the owners to cover every inch of it in various knick-knacks that served only to collect dust and make the room appear like a museum. Phryne felt sorry for the poor housemaid for when she was made to clean this room, which would probably be at least once a week if they wanted to keep a handle on it. Any longer than that and the dust would probably put down roots.

"One of your housemaids was murdered." Jack told him.

"And?"

Phryne's eyes turned to slits and she resisted the urge to smack the man over the ear, even if he were her elder. She'd known there had been a reason she hadn't liked the man and now she put her finger on it.

"And, being that she were under your employment, we would like to ask you some questions in regards to her."

Phryne hid a smile at his use of the word 'we'.

"Not sure what help I can be," he said plainly. "Lucy would know more than I. Dealing with housemaids and all that's woman's work." Again Phryne ignored violent impulses.

"We believe she was involved with a wealthy man," Jack told him, watching for a reaction. "Would you know anything about that?"

Phryne had expected overdone shocked outrage, as was common with men involved with their servants when asked about said involvement with their servants, but it did not come. Instead, he just laughed. "I have much better taste in… partners, than the household staff." It was then that he chose to look at Phryne and she had to hold down her rather large breakfast.

Jack asked a couple more questions then said the customary "thank you for your time."

"No problem," he smiled. Phryne squinted at the man, there was definitely something no quite right about him. She had no doubt that he would have slept with a housemaid if she'd presented herself to him, hell, if he'd just felt a hankering for housemaid one evening.

He showed himself out.

"Drink Jack?" Phryne asked, ringing a bell for the butler.

"Ahh, yes. Thank you."

The Butler came in and Phryne rattled off orders about drinks with the cool precision of one accustomed to their wealth and influence. He found it no wonder that most people fell under Phryne's guide when she could speak like that.

Jack sat and waited until he had a crystal class of whiskey in his hand. It rolled down his throat smoothly, as good whiskey should. He couldn't help but close his eyes to enjoy the taste and feel. Phryne couldn't help but smile at his reaction.

She waited for him to bring himself out of his relaxed trance before talking. "You think our Mr Campbell was having an affair with his housemaid and killed her?" she asked.

"I think that is one avenue which we are exploring."

Phryne huffed in the most ladylike manner possible. "Come on Jack."

He sighed and looked at her, sitting at the edge of her seat, green eyes attentive. There was little chance he would manage to escape her exceptionable ability to extract information. Recognizing this, he told her what he knew. And Phryne listened whilst she was told of Amberlynn McCloud found dead in a garden shed, without her contraceptive device, after meeting somebody, likely a lover for a tryst. She didn't ask how Jack knew that he was likely a lover, as the lack of contraceptive device seemed to suggest otherwise, she simply trusted his opinion. Strange, she mused, only months ago she would have never trusted a policeman's opinion as fact unless it faced up to her expert scrutiny.

"And you think Mr Campbell is this lover?"

Jack gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Well I shall keep an eye on him and see if he isn't hiding something."

The idea of Phryne snooping around after a man suspected of murder was not one that made Jack feel at all secure. Even though his words would fall on deaf ears, he began to tell her to be careful. He'd only just begun with his warning when he was interrupted by the shrill voice of Phryne's Aunt Prudence calling for her.

Phryne cringed, gave Jack a look that both apologized and mocked, then swallowed the rest of the whiskey in her glass as if it were water. She did not choke or splutter on the hard liquor, as even a trained Alcoholic may have, but put on her face her most pleasant of smiles. "Yes Aunt Prudence," she said pleasantly when the older woman arrived at the doorway.

"Guy has woken up and wishes to speak to you," she said, somewhat out of breath from traveling the distance from Guy's room to the sitting room at some speed.

"I'll be with him in a moment."

Prudence gave her a stern look that told her she would be there within the second or she would be given a rap over the knuckles. Phryne stood to go. When she gestured at Jack, Prudence took the initiative, "I'm sure the detective can wait to see Guy until he is mended."

Jack watched with intrigue and, he was not ashamed to admit, a little fear, as Prudence and Phryne glared at each other in the most polite of ways. Very much like a mother and daughter, each sure that they were correct and neither willing to back down. However, Phryne decided she would save her strength for a debate of more importance. Prudence, aware she had won, smiled and left them.

"I never though I'd see you defeated," Jack commented mockingly.

"She won the battle, not the war," Phryne said with a smile. Then, knowing they were alone, bent to brush a kiss over his lips. "I'll see you in a little bit then Jack."

Jack sat and watched her leave. He was in way over his head and he knew it. Had he not spent the last few days debating how to deal with the situation? It appeared the decision had been taken out of his hands. It also appeared as if he had done nothing to fight it. With less skill than she, he knocked back the rest of his drink, only choking slightly at its strength, then went to find Collins. No doubt he would be with his Miss Williams.

.

Phryne took a seat on Guy's bed beside him. His chest was displayed, a clean bandage across the side of his abdomen. A flesh wound, the doctor instructed her.

The room's décor was the same as the rest of the house, though Phryne determined it was bigger than hers. She said so. Guy replied with a smile and a comment that he was more likely to have multiple visitors and hence required more space to accommodate them.

"What, they don't expect me to have guests?"

"They do, just not as many. Speaking of guests," Guy said wickedly, "That was your inspector I saw when I was pulled from the ghastly beast's back, no?"

"Firstly, Ginger was not at all ghastly and probably one of the reasons you are still amongst the living." – the doctor nodded agreement – "She had to carry your great bulk at great speed. Poor thing deserves her due. Secondly, you were just shot, this is not a time to be talking about policemen," Phryne told him, "it's a time to be talking _to_ policemen."

"But we're not talking about policemen," Guy said simply. He was already back to himself and in his mind concocting a story of adventure and bravery to explain the scar the bullet hole was sure to leave. "We're talking about _a_ police_man_. And a rather dashing one if I do say so, if not a little straitlaced."

Phryne smiled impishly and Guy laughed. "I'm never wrong!" he informed her with pride. He had been sure he'd seen something between his cousin and the policeman at his engagement party. The man had not been able to keep his eyes off her. Then again, she had been dressed rather provocatively as Cleopatra, and many a man's eyes had been glued to her that night.

"You are _often_ wrong," Phryne laughed. "And in this case, you are, sadly." She was sure that Jack wouldn't want the world to know they were involved. If they truly were involved. Phryne didn't exactly know what they were.

Guy showed obvious doubt.

"Some men want women simply as wives," Phryne said with a sigh. She lit a gasper and took a deep drag. When Guy asked for one, she refused.

"That, cousin, is simply a waste of a creature that was meant for _so_ much more." Phryne was aware guy was speaking on behalf of woman's suffrage but rather in the interests of his own pleasure.

"I happen to agree," she said with a puff, "but the rest of the world often does not concur. Anyway, I must be off to try and work out who it was that shot you."

"A mistake dear girl," he said with a smile. Phryne wondered if he was truly so ignorant. Though something in his eyes suggested it was not with ignorance that he was speaking. Did he know who had shot him? Certainly there would be greater fear present in his demeanor if he did. "No point making a big fuss. Only a flesh wound, as the doctor says. I will be right as rain in no time."

"Do you remember nothing which would make you think otherwise?"

"Can't say I do," he said, pressing his lips together as if in thought. "Nope, nothing. Most of my concentration was being used staying on my horse. I did notice you disappear for a while though," he added with a sly grin.

"Get some rest," she informed him on a laugh. She bent to kiss his forehead, then left the room to do some digging.

.

"Dot?"

"Yes Miss?"

Dot looked up from the garments she was scrubbing to see Phryne dressed rather plainly. It was such a shock to her that she momentarily stopped her work. Phryne did not notice as she was soon at work repainting her face. Dot returned to her scrubbing.

"Did Mrs Campbell bring a lady's maid or companion with her?"

"Yes."

"And?" Phryne asked, expertly shaping her eyebrows into sharp lines.

"What do you want to know? The name of her lady's maid is Katherine, with a K. Though I don't know why she feels the need to tell everybody, it's not as if we're going to be sending her a letter anytime soon. Seems nice enough." Phryne heard dislike in Dot's tone.

"But you don't like her?"

"I have nothing against her…"

"Well out with it," Phryne said, exasperatedly but not unkindly.

"She just aint my cup of tea, Miss. Dresses above her station and seems to enjoy flirting with every male she spots," Dot said disgustedly.

Phryne laughed to herself. "She didn't happen to try and flirt with Hugh now, did she?"

Dot huffed and Phryne laughed, a loud this time. "Dot dear, you really must understand that Hugh is an attractive man who is going to be flirted with." When Dot tried to interrupt, Phryne raised a hand and stopped her. "However, he is very unlikely to even notice he is being flirted with, and even if he did he would simply go bright as a tomato and feel guilty as sin, despite not actually flirting back. Men who are as in smitten as Hugh Collins is with you simply take no notice of any other females." Not that Hugh Collins had ever noticed females before he'd met Dorothy. Phryne, who did not usually believe in soul mates, believed firmly that Hugh and Dot were such.

"I suppose," Dot muttered.

"Good. Now, do you think you could get some gossip out of this Katherine with a K."

"She seems the type," Dot said with light loathing.

"Dot."

Dot sighed. "Yes Miss. What do you want me to find out?"

"A housemaid at there house was recently murdered" – Dot crossed herself – "I simply want to know what she thought of the girl, a Miss Amberlynn McCloud, and whether or not she thinks she could have known their employer in the biblical sense."

Dot's eyes went wide but she nodded. Since working for the Hon. Miss Phryne Fisher she'd become a lot more used to such tales. "Very good Miss."

"Now, get me the red dress, I want to make an impression at dinner."

. . .

xoxo


	9. Chapter 9

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Nine

. . .

Phryne did indeed make an impression at dinner, Nathaniel's eyes only just managed to stay inside their sockets when he saw her. Guy sent her an appreciative wink, as did Elaine Everwood. Mrs Campbell was far to preoccupied with looking worriedly at Guy, though she stood next to her husband, but such went unnoticed by Mr Campbell as he was also enjoying the sight that was the Hon. Miss Phryne Fisher.

Aunt Prudence caught her arm before they entered the dinning room. "Do you really think such a dress," if you could even call the glimmering, tight piece of material a dress, "is appropriate."

"Not at all," said Phryne simply, and took up Nathaniel's arm to be lead into dinner.

This time she managed to get herself seated next to Mr Campbell and took up conversation with him about how lovely the hunt had been before poor Guy had gotten himself shot. She didn't really mean a word of what came out of her mouth, but Gerald – as he instructed her to call him – seemed to appreciate the idea that the shooting was all Guy's fault. He seemed not to like her cousin very much. However, this was easily explainable by the fact that, even at that moment, Guy was taking measures to seduce his wife. Phryne made just the right amount of contact with her hand on his arm, and leg against his under the table, that she kept his attention. Nathaniel, watching from across the table, did not look particularly happy.

"Truly awful about your maid," she said sympathetically.

"You cannot assist the help," he said on a sigh. "They will be what they will."

And she was murdered, Phryne though with disgust. It was hardly her own fault. However, she simply nodded, hating herself. "Did you know her well?"

"Not particularly," he said dismissively. Phryne was sure that he was lying and that suggested he was indeed involved with her. But did he kill her? Phryne, although not familiar with the case, did not see an alternative suspect. However, girls like that usually had a poor sweetheart following them around like a puppy. Maybe Amberlynn had had another lover who'd been hurt upon finding out she was with another man and took that anger out on her throat. Phryne wanted to get her hands on the coroner's report. A crime of passion could result in a stab wound to the throat, but were there other marks that suggested more violence than the stab that killed her?

Aware that he had lost her attention, Gerald looked around the table to see his wife flirting shamelessly with young Guy and Nathaniel looking rather downcast. The son of the house kept looking at Guy and Lucy, then at him and Phryne, with envy.

"It looks as if you have an admirer, Miss Fisher," said the professor from the other side of her, noticing Nathaniel's glances in her direction.

Phryne had had many admirers over her time and dismissed the topic of Nathaniel with the flick of the hand. Why hadn't Jack been invited to have dinner with them? Certainly he was not expected to eat with the staff. Or had he already left, without saying goodbye?

She grew quickly tried of the mindless conversation around the table and ate the remainder of her food in relative silence, wondering how she was going to find out if Miss Amberlynn had any other lovers or who shot her cousin.

.

Phryne was about to turn herself in for the night when she spotted Jack outside, leaning on the railing, smoking a reflective gasper and examining the night sky with determination. She approached him without a sound.

"So you _are_ staying the night," she accused. She had overheard Dot and Hugh talking and knew the policemen would be sharing their company for at least another day.

Jack didn't jump or even turn. Although he was sure he would never be used to the beautiful detective, he was certain he would not show it. Also, her French perfume gave her away. "The housekeeper has made us up room in the worker's quarters," he replied, a soft emphasis on the specific detail that he was not sleeping anywhere near her.

"Hmm…" Phryne murmured suggestively, pulling out and lighting her own cigarette.

The evening was warm, but not uncomfortably so. With the sun had gone the uncomfortable heat that they had been subjected to for the majority of the day. Over the field and the forest, the stars shone bring in the sky. The moon offered the only light. Highlighted by the moonlight, Phryne's features looked even more majestic and enticing. Jack tried not to look.

Neither said a word, they just stood, leaning against the railing, smoking and thinking. Phryne pondered how she would manage to convince Jack to join her in her boudoir.

When she finished her cigarette, Phryne turned to face the house, her back, left bare by her dress, against the cold concrete of the balustrade. She watched the few who were still awake through the window and wondered briefly what they would be talking about. The professor, she was sure, would be telling a story likely already heard by one in his company. She spotted Guy and Mrs Campbell in a corner and smiled. He was playing with fire their. Perhaps Mr Campbell had shot him for trying to seduce his wife. If he had killed his housemaid/lover, it wasn't such a farfetched conclusion.

"What are you thinking about?" Jack asked suspiciously. He'd been dreaming about running his hands over her thin, barely covered body, but was sure, by the set of her jaw and look of determination in her eye, she'd been thinking about something practical and case related. Was she really not subject to the immense urges that he was, that made even doing his job difficult?

"Well I was originally wondering how I would get you into my bed," she said frankly. Jack barely raised his eyebrows. "But recognizing that I would be unlikely to entice you into such sinful behavior in an estate filled with people, I began to watch said people and wonder which one of them decided to put a bullet in my cousin's side."

"It could have been an accident."

"Yes," Phryne agreed, though her tone suggested she did not, "It could have been." She sighed and turned to Jack. "Anyway, I should call it a day. Good night Jack," she smiled, craving to kiss him, but resisting.

"Good night, Miss Fisher."

Phryne laughed as she re-entered the mansion and made her way to bed. She wished that Jack would follow her but knew he would not. As she stripped away her dress, throwing it carelessly over a chair, her devious mind hatched a plan. Setting her mental alarm clock, she went to bed.

. . .

exam in town hours :/ above is the work of my procrastination haha

Hope you're enjoying my story!

xoxo


	10. Chapter 10

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Ten

. . .

When Phryne awoke it was dark and silent. She removed herself from the embrace of the covers, exercised the necessary measures, and wrapped herself in a silk robe. With the delicacy of a cat, she patted out of her room, shutting the door silently behind her, and made her way to the servant's quarters, as they were still called even though those who resided in them were paid and could leave willingly whenever they wished.

She thought herself doing so well when she caught her toe on the leg of a table of some sort. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep herself from exclaiming words unfitting to be coming out of the mouth of a lady at a volume likely to wake the entire house. When the initial wave of pain subsided, she released her lip from the grasps of her teeth and muttered a near silent curse. Perhaps she was not as stealthy as she had thought herself. But then again, her mind spoke in her defense, this is a large estate of which you are unfamiliar. Phryne agreed and decided one attack by a table leg did not mean she was not a good sneak. However, the four other assaults by pieces of furniture before she reached her destination had her doubt returning.

As silently as she had shut her own, Phryne creaked open the door, realizing the sound of snoring into the corridor. Her face scrunched up slightly in confusion. She would have sworn Jack had not snored the night he had spent at hers. Then again, they had not spent much time asleep.

Softly, she padded over to the bedside to find it was not Jack Robinson in the bed but Hugh Collins. She had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. She did not believe Dot would appreciate that she nearly climbed into bed with her not-yet intended. Phryne left the room as quietly as she had entered and shut the door on the young Constable's snores.

Her hand on the doorknob, Phryne stopped momentarily. She felt a feeling that she could not put her finger on. Certainly she wanted to be doing this. She realized with a shock that she was nervous. Such emotion, Phryne told herself, was pointless, and she pushed it away quickly. She infiltrated the next room and slipped her robe from her shoulders as the door shut behind her. The figure in the bed stirred. Phryne stood absolutely still, heart racing just a little too quickly, and tried not to make a noise. The figure turned and looked at her.

"What are you…?"

"Using my keen powers of deduction I worked out that you would not be convinced to come to me in the middle of the night, so I came up with another idea," Phryne whispered wickedly. Although it was dark, she could tell that Jack was happy to see her. She wondered if, being that he hadn't expected to stay the night, he would be clothed beneath the sheets.

"Phryne…" Jack murmured. He had been dreaming about her when she had woken him. Was he still dreaming?

"Do you want me to go Jack?" Phryne asked daringly, padding over to the bed. She was soon pulling back the sheets to join him. She forced any fear that he might turn her away from her mind and instead implied the confidence she was known for.

"No," he sighed breathily. He really didn't see himself having any choice in the matter.

"No what?" Phryne teased.

"No, I don't want you to go."

It turned out the Jack was indeed wearing pajamas – a good policeman was always prepared and had such things as a change of clothes in his car – but they were quickly dealt with. Phryne climbed on top of Jack, under the covers, and sunk him into her. Still half asleep, his movements were slow, his mouth savoring every taste, his hands savoring every touch. Being with Phryne Fisher was better than any dream. She was smooth and sultry, a luxury that he had never experienced before her. He rolled her onto her back and relished in making love to her slowly and dreamily.

Phryne, very used to sex and lust fueled encounters, let herself sink into being loved by the policeman. It was, she thought, better than sex. Her heart ached as he moved with her slowly, as he kissed her tenderly. When she reached her climax she clamped onto him tightly and he held her as she shuddered.

They lay together, her head resting on his chest, and he ran his fingers through her hair. She was so beautiful. He wished she could be his. He had not felt such love since Rosie, hadn't thought he would ever feel it again after he returned from the war. And now that he was feeling it, it was for a woman so completely unusual and unexpected. Part of him wished he didn't feel it, as it would make things inside his head much clearer, but most of him was thankful to feel the warmth he'd been sure would be lost to him forever.

Phryne moved to press her lips against Jack's heart.

"Phryne," Jack murmured. She sensed sorrow in his voice and it caught her. Why was he feeling sad? She tried to regain as much composure as was possible.

"I should be going," she said logically, starting to stand, forcing her shields back up. Very quickly the mood had seemed to change and suddenly Phryne just wanted to get out of the room and back in her own bed.

"No," Jack murmured, reaching up to grab her, "not yet." Phryne felt tears begin to well up in her eyes and hated herself for them. Why on earth was she even crying? She promptly told the tears to return to their place inside her eyes. She let herself be drawn back to Jack. Her heart was hammering, and not with lust and expectation as it had been moments prior, but with something unsettlingly close to fear. He kissed her hair. "We need to talk," he murmured, "about this."

"Yes," Phryne managed.

"But not now."

"No," Phryne said again. She reached up to kiss him again. This time the kiss turned quickly from tender to rough. Jack held onto her desperately and fought not to be violent. When she broke the kiss he was panting. "Not now," she repeated, and fell desperately into him embrace to just be sure she didn't get the female hysteria that resulted from celibacy.

On the return trip to her room Phryne only chanced upon three violent pieces of furniture out for blood and she returned to her bed feeling pleasantly satisfied but disagreeably disconcerted. Nonetheless, she fell asleep without delay. When she woke and was dressed in the morning, Dot said nothing in regards to the bruises on her calves, the results of her brawls with the estate's furnishings, and the Cheshire Cat grin plastered on her face.

. . .

xoxo


	11. Chapter 11

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Eleven

. . .

"Why don't you take Hugh out for a picnic Dot dear," Phryne suggested. The idea had originally arisen in her mind as a notion for her and Jack, but she doubted he would be eager to sit on the grass in the sun when there was a case afoot. The only reason she had thought of it herself was the romantic mood she found herself, probably a result of multiple climaxes just the night before. The thought brought a wicked smile to her lips which she only fought to remove out of fear Dot might presume her suggestion that she and Hugh have a picnic lunch was proposed with ulterior motives, of which there were none.

Dot, either obvious to or choosing to ignore the look on her employer's face, seemed to light up at the idea but then shook her head. "He'll be busy with his case Miss."

Phryne doubted this very much. They had already spoken to Mr Campbell so there wasn't really anything else to do. The only reason why Jack and Hugh would still be there was if they were investigating Guy being shot, which Phryne suspected they were. Even so, there was little Hugh could do other than sit around and have ideas bounced off him by his superior. Phryne felt she could fill that role perfectly, so Hugh would not be required.

"I'm sure he can take some time out for lunch," Phryne said as if there was absolutely no argument against her. Dot had long realized that her Miss Phryne had this ability to make everything other than her own opinion seem silly, even when it was her opinion that was the silly one.

"But the Inspector…"

"Leave Jack to me Dot dear," Phryne smiled. Dot recognized her smile and decided it were best she not ask how Phryne planned to convince the detective-inspector to let Hugh go for an hour or two. "Take a bath with my rose salts. I'll go down to the kitchen to tell them to make up a picnic basket."

Dot, not seeing much point in arguing and partial to Phryne's rose bath salts, simply nodded in agreement then went about running herself a bath. It was not as big as Phryne's but it was still an overly opulent luxury which Dot had not experienced before she had started working for Phryne. She sung into the hot water, surrounded by the sweetest scent, and was so deeply relaxed that she did not hear when an intruder entered Phryne's boudoir.

.

"What can I do for you Miss?" The cook asked. She had to give her a not-too-light shove her assistant, who was captured by Phryne's fashionable outfit, back to work.

Phryne smiled, "a picnic basket for two please. I've suggested my companion and her soon-to-be intended take a recess to enjoy the beautiful surroundings of the estate."

"That'd be that young copper, aye?" The cook smiled knowingly. She caught the two having secret words the day prior. When she was that age, any time alone with her steady would 'ave been spent locking lips. "When you mean soon-to-be, do you mean…?"

Phryne understood the cook's hints at a proposal but shook her head. "Sadly not. If he keeps going on like this she might just have to ask him herself."

"Aint that just like men," the assistant sighed. The look in her eye suggested she'd been having similar problems.

"Amen," agreed the cook.

"Not all men."

The three women turned to see Jack standing in the doorway, intrigued with their conversation. Phryne thought he looked just as dapper as always. The cook, although unaware of how the detective usually looked, agreed that he looked dapper. The young assistant dropped her head with a blush at being caught by a man when discussing another man.

"I didn't see you their inspector," Phryne smiled. "Mrs…"

"Rabbits," the cook supplied.

Phryne thanked her. "Mrs Rabbits was just making up a picnic basket for Dot and Hugh. I assured Dot dear that you wouldn't them taking a short breather." She left him no time to dispute. "Now, what do you mean not all men?"

"Well," he said, suddenly very aware that he was the only male in the room, "I, for one, planned very carefully what I was going to say when I proposed to my wife and required no pushing along."

"So you think," Mrs Rabbits grinned. She got out a picnic basket and began filling it with various sandwiches, biscuits and other treats.

Jack looked mildly confused. The assistance took pity on him and explained, "Women can be very subtle you know. It aint that difficult to convince a man that the plan placed in his head was his plan, even when it weren't." Jack looked at Phryne and she winked. It appeared this was one of the skills she excelled at.

"Not that you've been all that successful," Mrs Rabbits laughed.

The girl blushed. "He's coming around," she said in a near whine.

"Sure 'e is love, sure 'e is."

Phryne took this as her time to leave, not partial to young females of the whiny variety, and took Jack's elbow to lead him with her. Once they were out of earshot from the kitchen-staff, likely very proficient when it came to the hearing of and spreading of gossip, Phryne spoke.

"Do you ride Jack?" She only just resisted the urge to add, _well, anything other than I._

"Pardon?"

"Horses. Do you ride?"

"I've always seen horse riding as a rather useless hobby for the well-to-do." – Phryne looked at him as if to say that that did not answer his question – "But yes, I can ride, if need be."

"Good. We can go down to the stables after I've change." – Jack, again, was not given time to disagree – "You cant wait outside my room if you are so worried about my reputation. Though I really do think its beyond saving. Even Dot may have stopped praying for it. And you've seen everything anyway." Phryne noted Jack was, though incredibly subtlety, ensuring nobody heard them and so changed the subject when they passed a maid. She didn't want to be scaring the man off. One thing she had learned from all her many experiences with men is that they were just as likely to be startled as deer. "You should see the sight where Guy was shot if you're investigating the matter and it's much quicker to get there by horse than by legs."

Jack begun to say he wasn't investigating the matter when he was shot down.

"Honestly Jack, you need to work on your lying. If you weren't looking into it you would have left yesterday."

"I believe myself a perfectly fine lair when need be, Mis Fisher. Perhaps I wanted to stay because I missed you?" he suggested.

"I wish," Phryne sighed. Jack wondered if she really didn't think that she had played a large part in his staying. Could somebody so well versed in near everything really be so unaware?

When they reached her room Phryne told him to wait outside and pulled open the door to reveal a room thoroughly ransacked. "Dot?" Phryne called out worried, racing into the room.

"In the bath Miss," a voice called back.

Phryne let out a brief sigh of relief but her anger at somebody's snooping still remained. "Stay in there," Phryne told her in her voice that allowed for no disagreement. She walked over a shut the door to the WC before letting Jack in, preserving Dot's decency. The two looked over the room.

"There's no way I'm going to convince you to leave?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Not a chance," she replied angrily. It was not so much the state of the room that annoyed her, but that the offender had done so with Dot in the next room. She was thankful Dot had not appeared to have noticed. The door to the WC had been half closed, obstructing view of the room from the bath.

"Can you tell if anything is missing?" Jack asked. He was trying very hard to keep his mind clear. What would have happened if Phryne had still been in the room? He knew, based on his experience on the force, that the culprit had not been violent, and had probably watched for Phryne to leave, but that did not help his worry. Neither did the knowledge that had Phryne been in the room when the intruder entered, he would probably have another dead body on his hands, and it wouldn't have been Phryne's.

"Dot will do a search when she gets back from her picnic," Phryne said simply, vainly picking up some clothes with plans to fold them that dissipated as soon as she held the fabric. She returned them to where they had been. "What was he searching for?" she asked herself a loud. "A stupid move really. It's proof that there's something going on. Ah well. Would you like to go wait outside?" Phryne asked, indicating she was planning on changing.

Jack sat down on the bed in answer.

"Very well," she smiled, sliding her morning outfit from her body and donning herself in a new set of riding clothes _not_ covered in her cousin's blood. She only interrupted her changing to kiss Jack twice. He really was enchanting.

Even in the masculine riding outfit, Jack observed, she looked irresistibly erotic. Phryne, noticing his look, took a spin to parade the ensemble. "Do you want to change?" she asked him.

"Into what? I don't make a habit of traveling with the entirety of my wardrobe."

"And for that reason you're about to go riding in a three-piece suit," Phryne mocked. She knocked on the door to the WC and spoke through the door. "I'm taking the Detective-Inspector to where Guy was shot. The kitchen will have your picnic basket ready when you want it. When you get out of the bath, don't be shocked. We've had a visitor. You can clean it up _after_ your picnic. I would much prefer you spend the entire afternoon with Hugh and it remain a mess than you waste your time putting it back into order. Am I understood?"

Jack heard a muffled "yes Miss."

"Good," Phryne smiled. "I will see you later."

. . .

xoxo


	12. Chapter 12

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Twelve

. . .

Jack and Phryne, arm in arm, walked past the library where Guy and Mrs Campbell sat in the seat of a bay window whispering sweet nothings to each other. Guy winked at Phryne. She smiled back. That boy, she thought wickedly, was going to end up with a black eye. Jack noticed the couple she was looking at.

"Isn't he engaged?" he asked, confused.

"Yes," Phryne said simply. "And the woman he is with is married to your Gerald Campbell." Jack shook his head but said nothing more. "My cousin," Phryne smiled, "is a corrupting influence on most of the women he meets, and some of the men." Though, she thought, it appeared he had let go of any hopes on Nathaniel Everwood. Where was that boy?

Jack, although he had nothing against men you enjoyed the company of other men, made a note to stay clear. He might have nothing against them, but he preferred their advances not aimed towards him.

"Don't worry," Phryne told him, reading his mind. "He knows you're off limits."

Jack tried not to read into what exactly Phryne meant by that.

When they reached the stables, Phryne's question as to where Nathaniel was was answered. He was brushing down his Brutus, who looked as if he'd just been given a good workout. The horse was noticeably wet with sweat. As was Nathaniel. Phryne thought it admirable that he was brushing down his own mount.

"Lovely morning for a ride," Phryne commented by way of greeting.

"Ah Miss Fisher," he smiled politely. She wondered where and when he'd lost her first name. "It is indeed." Did she sense annoyance in his tone? She supposed she _had_ practically ignored him since the hunt.

"I was just about to take the detective out for a ride," she said, walking over to see Ginger. Jack stood back and watched the exchange. He was fully aware of the young man's vexed examination of him. "Have you a horse for him?"

"He can take ātaahua," Nathaniel suggested. "A New Zealand beast, good in the woods. Saddle her up, will you Devon?"

The same stable hand that had introduced her to Ginger started to saddle up a bay that didn't look like she'd be too much of a handful. "And you'll take Ginger again, Miss?" he asked her.

"If she's ready for a ride," Phryne smiled. "I'll saddle her." This shocked all three men, though Jack showed his shock less visibly. A lady shouldn't saddle her own horse. Jack, however, was used to Phryne acting opposed to convention. He was just happy he was not expected to do any saddling because, although he could point a horse in the right direction and make it move, he doubted very much he could remember how to put on a saddle correctly.

Nonetheless, when he mounted the beast, he managed it in one fluid movement. His mount had nothing on Phryne's, which was accomplished with a certain amount of flare, but he had managed. He wondered if Phryne Fisher could do anything without flare. It was very much part of her nature.

"Follow me," she smiled and turned her horse towards the forest.

To the ends of the earth, Jack thought to himself.

Phryne was impressed by Jack's ability on horseback. Where she rode like one trained at grammar school, he rode as if he'd been trained on a farm, herding sheep. "Where did you learn to ride?" Phryne asked him casually. It unnerved her to realize how very little she knew about the man who had shared her bed. Not that she had minded with previous lovers.

"On my uncle's farm," he replied in the same manner.

"Your uncle has a farm?"

"He does."

Phryne looked at him as an exasperated wife looks at a husband. "You realize it is not a crime to tell me stories from your childhood?"

"I wasn't aware you were an expert with the law Miss Fisher."

"I'm an expert at many things Detective-Inspector Robinson. I'm sure you've realized that by now." Her concealed meaning was blatantly obvious in the tone in which she spoke.

"I think you overestimate your abilities Miss Fisher," Jack said simply.

Phryne smiled wickedly, wishing very much that she could run her hands over him, but it wasn't possible on horseback. "I'll have to prove my expertise later."

Jack had no doubt she would.

When they arrived at the sight where Guy had been shot, they dismounted and Phryne tied the horses up loosely. They didn't appear to be going anywhere.

"Let's go over what happened again," Jack told her. In terms of crime scenes went, it wasn't great. The bush was quite dense, the ground muddy and covered in leaves, and blood against only one tree, where he presumed Guy had been propped up before Phryne arrived on the scene to whisk him away to safety.

Phryne examined the scene with detachment and explained to Jack the events again in sharp detail. She had hoped returning to the scene would spur something in her mind but it didn't. She placed her hands on her hips and sighed.

"You came from?"

"Over there," Phryne said pointing.

"And Mr Everwood was with you?"

Phryne noticed something in her voice that had her smiling. "The younger," she informed him.

"And you and Mr Everwood had been doing what?"

Phryne walked to Jack and slid her arms around his neck. "We were leaving those who enjoy shooting at helpless creatures to do so."

"So you didn't see _anything_ suspicious?" Jack asked, trying not show how affected he was by Phryne's presence so close to him. He wanted to tell her to let go but knew that to do so would be a sign of weakness. Best pretend as if he were unaffected.

Phryne suddenly didn't feel so determined to go over Guy's shooting. "Nothing," she purred.

"Phryne," Jack warned.

"One kiss," she told him. Her lips were against his before he could do anything about it, but he didn't object. He pulled her close and hung on. The kiss ended before either of them wanted it to. "Are you staying tonight?" Phryne asked him hopefully.

"No." She pouted and he returned her pout with a quick kiss. He wanted to kiss her every time her red lips pouted and was thankful for the opportunity to do so. It would likely not return often being as they were usually surrounded by officers of the law whom Jack would not be making displays of affection in front of. "I have to find Miss McCloud's murderer."

"Who could, very likely, be right here."

"Could be."

"And somebody searched my room this morning, rather violently. You wouldn't want to leave me here all alone, would you?" She was playing with him and they both knew it. Her finger ran itself down the side of his face.

"You could always return to St. Kilda tonight," he suggested.

Phryne looked at him sternly. "Or you could stay just one more night, come to dinner and meet all the possible suspects for Guy's shooting and we could both leave tomorrow."

"You would come back with me?"

"We're not going on another hunt, since Guy's accident, and I have a case to solve back in Melbourne."

"I didn't believe you had been retained on the matter of Miss McCloud's murder."

"Give me until dinner, I'll convince Mr, or perhaps Mrs, Campbell."

"I have no doubt you will," he sighed. "Has anybody ever said no to you?"

"You have Jack," she pointed out.

He wished he remembered how.

Jack was interrupted by the sound of a bullet being fired. He slammed Phryne down against the ground without a second thought and removed his pistol. The horses, tied loosely, reared and disappeared into the forestry. Phryne wondered if it were appropriate to feel tingles when one was being shot at and decided probably not. She informed the tingles to come back at a more suitable time when they could be acted upon. Jack waited several moments on top of Phryne before he felt it was safe to stand. Her offered her his hand and she took it. Phryne didn't appreciate being shot at.

"Do you always take your pistol when going for a ride?" she asked as she brushed the dirt from her jodhpurs.

"When I go anywhere with you Miss Fisher, I often need my gun."

"I feel this simply stands as evidence towards your point," she sighed. "Who, on earth, shot at us?"

"Easily enough to establish. We simply verify alibis."

"Once we get back to the house," Phryne sighed, then took Jack's elbow. The horses were long gone, leaving only one means of transportation: legs. They took off in the rough direction of the mansion. It really was too hot a day for walking, especially long distances.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her, noticing she was limping slightly.

"Fine," she smiled leaning on him. She wouldn't point out that her leg was slightly bruised from her connection with the hard forest ground. "So you'll stay tonight." It wasn't a question.

Jack sighed, knowing he had lost.

.

When Phryne returned to her room she was tired from her walk, stressed from being shot at and frustrated from an argument with a stablehand. It was hardly her fault somebody at shot at them and scared the horses away. Nonetheless, they had made it back to the stables before Jack and her had and were unharmed. What she wanted was a long soak in a bath. Jack had gone to call his station to inform them that him and Collins would be staying another day.

Phryne entered the room to find it still looking as if a tornado had hit it. She sighed deeply, added the clothes she'd been wearing to the mess, then went straight for the bath. As the bath ran, she examined herself in the mirror. Not _too_ many bruises, she mused, and mostly contained to her left side, which had hit the ground first when Jack had tackled her. When she sunk into the boiling water, her muscles ached, but in a manner not altogether unpleasant.

Why had they been shot at? Phryne asked herself. It was the first question that came to mind. It was not as if they had stumbled onto something in their search for Amberlynn's killer and whoever had shot Guy, either accidently or purposefully. One shot at you when you were getting close, but they were far from close to anything. Then again, the mind of a killer was not one easily understood. Perhaps he, or she, was beginning to feel threatened and worried, and fueled by paranoia had decided to search Phryne's room then try to shoot her head off. Not that they had tried that hard, Phryne mused. Her and Jack had been sitting ducks, yet only one shot had been fired. A warning shot perhaps?

Either way, somebody had shot at her and she intended to find out whom.

But for now, she thought, closing her eyes and letting the heat of the water calm her, she would relax. Before she had left England to return to Australia, she would never have found it possible to relax when somebody had just tried to kill her, but now she pushed it away from her mind as easily as one did a drink of whiskey they had yet to finish, and planned to finish later, but did not feel up to at the moment.

She woke up with a start as her head fell below the water. Dot heard the splashing from outside the room and quickly came to her employer's aid. She had returned from her picnic with Hugh feeling as if she were walking on clouds and had promptly began straightening the room, leaving Phryne to her bath. It appeared she had been in there a long time, as when Dot guided her out of the water her skin resembled that of a prune's.

Dot said nothing but Phryne had noticed the same thing. "Any longer in that bath and I would have been bearing resemblance to my mother, a nightmare which I hope will never come to reality."

Dot listened eagerly – Miss Phryne never spoke of her mother – but Phryne did not elaborate. Dot, knowing to do so would be rude, didn't ask. She wondered what Mrs Fisher would look like and whether she was at all like Phryne. Likely not, she thought. It was highly unlikely there existed another woman on the planet quite like her Miss Fisher.

"How was your picnic with Constable Collins?" Phryne asked politely and she saw Dot's face light up light a carnival. That, she thought, was a girl madly in love if she'd ever seen one.

"Oh it was marvelous Miss," she said, obviously trying to reign in her excitement that was bursting rapidly out of her seams. "Great day for it."

"Indeed."

Dot obviously wanted to say more but didn't. "And how did you and the Inspector get on with finding out who shot Mr Guy?" It would not have surprised Dot in the slightest if Phryne told her she'd found him and shot him for trying to escape. This, however, was not the news she was given.

"Alright I suppose. Somebody tried to shoot us. Not to worry Dot," she said to the shocked and worried face, "I've determined it was only a warning shot. Though I have yet to establish why somebody would feel the need to warn me. Any theories?"

"None Miss."

"I didn't think so. Anyway, the shot scared the horses and Jack and I had to hike our way back to the house in this terrible heat. I'm lucky I'm not red as a tomato."

"No wonder you feel asleep in the bath, you must be exhausted."

"Thoroughly," Phryne agreed. "But there is no rest for the wicked."

And that was the end of that. Phryne went about being completely unhelpful in straightening the room whilst Dot folded clothes and wondered what exactly her Miss Phryne had meant by that last comment.

. . .

xoxo


	13. Chapter 13

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Thirteen

. . .

"So glad you could join us for dinner Jack," Phryne smiled as the inspector joined their party in the parlor, where they were waiting for dinner to be served. She stood from next to Mr. Frederick Burton, a rather boring man who proudly declared his profession was being a gentleman, and went to meet him at the door. She could tell already that he was uncomfortable, but it was nothing a drink wouldn't fix. "A whiskey for the Inspector," she instructed the butler who quickly left to do her bidding.

"It's not as if you left me with a great amount of choice," he said quietly enough that nobody else would hear. She smiled wickedly, but made no comment. With the skill of the well-to-do lady she was, Phryne led Jack over to the professor before he could realize he was being led. He was supplied a drink of whiskey and engaged in conversation with a man he was informed was Professor Matthew Reagan, a history connoisseur, before he could blink an eye. Where the rest of the company were suspicious of having a jack in their midst, the professor was just happy to have another set of ears to tell his stories to.

"Dinner," the butler announced, "is served."

"I Prayer we be seated next to each other old chap," professor Reagan smiled amicably and Jack felt slightly bad that he found the man so utterly boring. Not bad enough to pray he be seated next to him, but.

Jack sent Phryne a look of concern and she stifled a laugh.

They were escorted into the dinning room and professor Reagan prayers were answered. Jack found himself sandwiched between the boring older man and Phryne.

"Sorry," she whispered into his ear as Reagan went on talking about some 18th century war.

There was something in her tone... "You planned this?" he asked, turning to face her.

Reagan was not fazed and continued talking.

"Perhaps," she stated quietly, covering her grin with her glass.

Jack sighed and returned his attention back to Professor Reagan. He wasn't a bad chap and he was simply being polite to a visitor none of the other guests had even acknowledged. Jack reckoned the least he could do was attempt to listen to what he was saying.

On the other side of Phryne sat Mrs Lucy Campbell. Phryne took this opportunity to ask her about where she lived – a mansion in the well-do-to side of Melbourne, two tram rides away from St. Kilda – and what her house was like – entirely too big and requiring a great number of staff.

"And are your staff good?"

"Why yes, Miss Fisher, of course. Very good. We haven't had any trouble."

"Lovely to hear," Phryne smiled. "Staff these days can be quite a handful," she said seriously, though she did not truly believe it. Those under your employment treated you well as long as you did the same.

"Yes!" Lucy exclaimed, "I've heard stories! But sadly I have none of my own to add to the book. I've only ever had lovely staff, never had to fire anybody."

Phyrne doubted the woman actual spent all that much time involved in the management of the staff. What, Phryne wondered, did a woman spend all her time doing in such a big house with no profession? It was then that she noticed a glance shared between Lucy Campbell and Guy. Yes, Phryne supposed, that would be one way to spend one's days. And not necessarily a bad way. In fact, if Phryne were ever married and trapped away in a big house – not that she could see how that would happen – she'd probably spent her days doing similar. She made a mental note to ask Guy just how far his relationship with Mrs Campbell had progressed, and perhaps when it had begun.

"Do you entertain often?" Phryne asked.

"No," Lucy replied sadly, "not anymore. The last person we entertained was Mr Everwood. Junior, that is." There was a gleam in her eye that looked familiar and had Phryne trying not to grin. She felt Mrs Campbell was unlikely to feel the same comradeship as Elaine Everwood had over past trysts. "Gerald hasn't let me host a party in _such_ a long time."

"How unreasonable of him," Phryne commented, always a fan of a good shindig.

"Entirely," Lucy agreed.

Phryne, noticing Mrs Lucy Campbell was very similar to her, wondered why on earth it was that she felt strong dislike for the woman. Perhaps it was Phryne's dislike for her husband rubbing off on her feelings towards the wife.

On her opposite side, Phryne heard the ramblings of the professor and felt sorry for Jack. She'd asked that they be seated together as she had known he was the least likely of the company to snub the fine officer of the law, but she had not taken into account how utterly tedious he could be. She rubbed her hand on Jack's thigh under the table as an apology. Across the table, Elaine Everwood sent her a wink, which she returned with a sly smile. It appeared her and Mrs Everwood were cut from the same cloth. A pity Elaine hadn't been part of the hunt or surely she would have seen whom it was who had felt the need to put a bullet through her cousin's side.

Dinner was concluded with berry ice cream, made fresh by the cook using, of course, fruit grown in the estate's farm. It was quite delightful and the perfect desert to end a muggy day.

"I do love berry ice cream," Lucy Campbell said happily, sucking rather seductively on her spoon.

"It is my daughter's favorite," Phryne said, taking another mouthful. Her adopted daughter Jane would have thoroughly enjoyed the dessert and even the company. Surely she would have been able to talk the professor into telling her all about the history of science and medicine. Perhaps she had better start bring Jane on such outings.

"You have a daughter?" Lucy asked.

"Yes," Phryne answered with a smile that informed all she was not going to be elaborating on the subject.

When they retired to the library for drinks, Phryne managed to corner Guy and pull him away into a niche in the room where they would be seen, but not heard, by the rest of the company. Guy didn't seem to mind and quickly supplied them each with a gasper and a light.

"What can I do for you Cousin Phryne?"

"You can tell me all about the sinful things you are doing with Mrs Campbell."

"That could take quite a while," he said slyly, suggesting he had every intention of explain _every_ detail.

"Perhaps not everything. Give me a quick synopsis." She could see Jack from her position. Elaine Everwood had saved him from the professor and Phryne was grateful. Across the room, Jack probably was too.

Guy sighed, not knowing where to begin.

"When did you first meet her?" Phryne prompted.

"The morning before you arrived," he smiled, taking a meditative smoke. Phryne wasn't sure she believed him, but allowed him to continue. "She was hanging onto the arm of that dreadful husband of her's and I could not see any other possible women with which to spend my time."

"Always the romantic."

He patted his cousin's arm and laughed. "Aren't we both, dear girl. Besides, it appeared a challenge. I soon found out she was not as challenging to coerce as I had first believed, but none the matter." This supported Phryne's thought that Guy was not the first dalliance which the married woman had had.

"And you…?" Phryne pressed.

"Invited her up to my boudoir that evening," Guy smiled.

"And what about her husband?"

"He's a kitty cat," Guy said with a laugh. "Lucy walks all over him." If she did, Phryne wondered, why was it that she was never allowed to entertain? The situation was less black and white than Guy believed. Perhaps they had an agreement that they were allowed entanglements with others. Phryne had met quite a few couples of that nature.

"How very nice for her," Phryne smiled. "Now, I must be getting back to my…" she trailed off with the realization that she was about to refer to Jack as her date.

Guy, not missing a beat, raised his eyebrows fiendishly. "Date?"

Phryne frowned. Was he her date? She supposed her was. Though, she also supposed he would not appreciate being referred to as such. "Guest," she finished.

Guy laughed. "Yes, _guest_."

. . .

I would like to take this time to thank you all for your marvelous reviews. I love writing this story  
and I love to know that you like it. so please continue :P

Also, sorry if it's taking me a little long to update as I am in the middle of exams.

xoxo


	14. Chapter 14

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Fourteen

. . .

"Do you hunt, Mrs Everwood?" Jack asked, following on from a conversation about the previous day's events.

"Why yes," she smiled. She was beginning to understand why Miss Fisher liked the man. He may have been a policeman but he was good at making conversation and quite good on the eyes. "My father believed it only right that a woman know how to work a gun in case the men were sent off to war and she had to defend the property. I'm American, you see."

"Ah," Jack said, as if that were explanation itself. The Americans, he mused, were a strange bunch indeed. "Why is that you were not involved in the hunt yesterday then?"

The one problem with policemen, Elaine thought, is that they often conducted themselves in conversation as if they were running an interrogation. Not that she would minded very much being interrogated by the dashing man. If only she were younger, not married, and Miss Phryne Fisher did not already have clear possession of the man. Not that it appeared either of them had noticed it said possession yet.

"It is the job of the woman of the household to keep the guests happy. I couldn't just leave Prudence here alone whilst I went out chasing a fox. Besides, I have found men don't often appreciate it when it is a woman who gets the kill," she smiled wickedly in a way similar to Phryne. Jack found it admirable that somebody of her age and class could still manage such a seductive grin. "Isn't that right dear?" she asked, pulling her husband into the conversation.

"Indeed," he smiled at her. Jack thought it was clear they were still in love and found it impressive. His marriage, after all, had not lasted as it should have. "Though some men find it attractive."

"What do some men find attractive?" Phryne asked, joining the conversation. She only just resisted the temptation of sitting down on Jack's knee and, instead, placed a hand on his shoulder.

"A woman with a good shot," Elaine explained.

Phryne laughed her agreement.

The evening hadn't been quite as awful as Jack had expected it to be, and after he had managed to escape the professor's disquisition he had quite enjoyed himself. He found the Everwoods to be rather interesting. He imagined Elaine as very much an older Phryne, although not entirely as enchanting. As the night went on, many excused themselves, and he quickly found himself one of the last to retire.

"Time to call it a day, I believe," Elaine said on a yawn.

"Indeed," her husband agreed, taking her hand and leading her from the room. Phryne couldn't help but think they were entirely too sweet in the best possible way.

She took Jack's arm and let him lead her from the room. "Will you accompany me to my boudoir?" she asked, her tone all too alluring. She turned to face him, standing entirely too close to allow Jack's brain to function properly. She ran a hand up over his chest.

"No Phryne," he said simply. Though he did bend to brush his lips over hers sweetly. His kisses, she thought, had the ability to make her weak in a way that no man's had ever managed prior.

She huffed. "Really Jack, you've got to stop being so damned moralistic."

"One of us has to be."

It could have been taken as an insult, and Jack realized so only after he had finished say it, but Phryne did not take it as such. Instead, she smiled devilishly. "I disagree." Then she swept away to her bedroom

Jack watched her go, thankful she hadn't pushed the issue, otherwise, he was sure, he would have ended up in her bed.

.

Dot was in her room waiting for her when Phryne returned. All had been straightened up and one would, without prior knowledge, never know that it had resembled a dumpsite just that very afternoon. Phryne recognized immediately the tired look in Dot's eyes and told her promptly to get herself into bed.

"But not before I tell you the…" Dot stopped herself before she could finish with gossip. Her mother told her gossip was a sin. Not that that had ever stopped _her_, Dot mused. Nonetheless, she corrected, "about the dead girl."

Phryne's investigative spirit won out over her worry, but only with the promise that she would usher Dot straight to bed after she had shared all she knew.

"Apparently, she was known for acquaintances with rich men," Dot said, keeping her innocence by way of phrasing.

"Well yes, certainly," Phryne agreed. She stripped from herself the dress she had worn to dinner and allowed Dot to deal with it in a way that wouldn't form creases. She began work at removing her makeup from her skin. "Jack tells me she was meeting for a dalliance when she was killed."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Dot replied in a tone that seemed almost judgmental. Phryne raised a brow. "Katherine–"

"With a K," Phryne mocked.

Dot smiled. "Yes Miss. Katherine, with a K, informed me that this Amber girl had… been friendly with, ah, numerous men."

Phryne, one who had been friendly with numerous men herself, did not see this as the greatest crime in the world, though she recognized that for Dot, it was. For this reason she did not bring up her multiple friendships and simply asked, "anything else?"

"No Miss."

"Well good job, Dot dear," she smiled. "Keep looking. Though I'm not necessarily sure you'll discover more, you never know what might come up in conversation. Now to bed with you."

Phryne finished readying herself for sleep alone, although she was not at all tired. Rather, she was preoccupied with the knowledge that she was leaving in the morrow and had two unsolved mysteries to solve. She preferred her mysteries deciphered and knew that whilst they remained open, sleep was likely to evade her. Still and all, she wrapped herself up in her sheets and told herself to switch off.

. . .

xoxo


	15. Chapter 15

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Fifteen

. . .

Phryne, unable to sleep, sat up straight in her bed. She had a job to do and it appeared as if her body did not want to allow sleep to get in the way. She was entirely sick of having nothing to go on. Flicking on the lamp beside her bed, she went through everything she knew with a fine-tooth comb. When she was sure she would discover nothing of use, she heard Jack's voice telling her about the note Amberlynn had received the night of her murder, likely sent to her my her murder himself. Or herself, Phryne corrected. If Campbell were the murderer, his script would match that of the note. Easy enough to prove or disprove, she mused. All she need was a sample of his correspondence.

Without a second thought, Phryne was dressed in trousers and out the door with the aim of locating a writing sample from Mr Campbell. Her small pistol was tucked away in her wide sleeve in case she ran into any trouble, namely somebody intent on ending her life.

Lucky for Phryne, and any would be attackers, the only threats to her life Phryne found on her way across to the Campbell's bedroom were pieces of furniture rudely placed in obstruction of her path. Her toes and shins were pleading that she only do her sneaking during the light of day when they were less likely to be assaulted by stationary objects easily avoided when one could see them.

When she reached the Campbells' room, or at least the room she believed to be theirs, she found the door locked. "Drat," she muttered under her breath. But no matter, really. From beside her firearm she removed a nail file, useful for many things including filing nails, fixing hair and making locked doors open. With the same finesse as a well-trained crook, she fiddled the file in the lock until she heard a satisfactory click. It appeared her skills were as sharp as ever.

She padded into the room, avoiding obstacles artfully now that her eyes had finally adjusted to the dark. On the vanity, beside the necklace that Lucy had been wearing at dinner that evening, she discovered to piles of letters: one pile of sealed or recently opened letters, and one of letters yet to be sealed. Carefully, as not to crease, Phryne removed letters from their envelopes and distinguished two separate writings styles, one being that of Mr Campbell and the other Mrs Campbell. Phryne took a sample of each, relatively sure which one belonged to Mr Campbell but wanting to be sure, then let herself out of the room as quietly as she had entered. The two figures asleep in the bed did not even shift under the covers.

When Phryne returned to her room she met a figure coming out with his – she determined by his size that the intruder was male – back to her. Silently, she slipped out her gun and pressed it against the man's lower back.

"What," she whispered angrily, not wanting to wake anybody else up but fuming that somebody had been in her room, "are you doing in my boudoir?"

"God Phryne," Jack sighed, relaxing at the sound of his voice. For a brief moment he had thought himself caught by a murderer. "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, putting her gun away. It appeared she would not be needing it.

"I was coming to see you."

"Oh?"

Phryne led the way into her room and flicked on the light. It looked as if, other that Jack, nobody had disturbed her bedroom. However, it was at all possible the culprit had simply done a cleaner job the second time around. Unlikley, as in Phryne's experience most people kept to the same _Modus_ _Operandi_, but possible.

"What were you doing outside your room with a gun?" Jack asked, his tone expressing his exasperation. Was it too much to ask that Phryne remain in her room, preferably with the door locked, when somebody had already taken a shot at her?

"I wanted to be sure I was safe," she said simply. "Would you prefer I be sneaking around the estate with no weapon to defend myself with if somebody decided to attack me."

Jack gave Phryne a stern look that made her want to kiss him. "I would prefer you not go sneaking anywhere."

"That would be very uncharacteristic of me."

"Yes," Jack sighed, "it would be."

Phryne began removing the clothes she had thrown on for sleuthing and reveled her silk undergarments. Jack pressed his lips together as he imagined slipping them from her skin. "I should…" he began.

"Oh Nonsense Jack. You are staying right here and joining me for a much need drink," she told him in that tone of her's which allowed for no disagreement and slipped a robe over her underclothes. She poured whiskey from a rather lovely, and rather expensive, decanter into matching glasses. She wondered briefly whether she'd be able to fit them in her bag without Dot noticing. Dot was unlikely to permit her employer to purloin. "Besides, I need you expert eye to have a look at these," she smiled, pulling out a piece of paper from the pocket of the trousers she had been wearing that now lay other the floor.

"And where did you get those?"

Phryne snatched them back before Jack could take them. "A woman never tells." She waited for Jack to sit back and relax a bit before she joined him and handed over the letters. "Do either of them match the writing on the note you dead girl received?"

Jack looked both notes over and knew at once. "Where did you get these?"

"In Mr. Campbell's pile of outgoing letters," Phryne said casually, as if she had not just committed a crime by taking them. "Are either of them a match?"

"No," Jack sighed, putting them down on the end table between them.

"Drat," Phryne sighed. "Well, at least we know she wasn't meeting the master of the house."

"Indeed."

"I do have another theory though."

"Of course you do," Jack said. Did Phryne catch a smile on his lips? "Pray tell, Miss Fisher."

"Must you call me that?" She sighed, although she did not seem truly exasperated. Phryne secretly enjoyed Jack referring to her formally, a reminder of their banter whilst working cases. For some reason, when discussing matters of crime, it seemed right. And even in other matters, she thought wickedly.

Jack gave her a look as if to say it could not be helped.

Phryne sighed and continued with her theory. "Well, Lucy Campbell says that she very rarely entertains, being that her husband is a bore. This makes it unlikely that our Miss McCloud met her lover at a party held at their manor. However," she added before Jack could interject, "Guess who just spent the last few weeks visiting with the Campbells."

Jack, not one for guessing games, sipped his whiskey and motioned her on. "Who?"

"Young Mr Everwood."

"The Mr Everwood who was with you at the time Guy was shot?"

"The very same," Phryne smiled. "I feel we may have, without having noticed it, fallen into the common misconception that simply because two murders – well, one murder and one attempted murder – occurred within quick succession, that there must be a single murderer. I think were dealing with two separate people here Jack."

"I'm inclined to agree. And there is still the possibility that Guy's being shot was simply an accident. You said it yourself that nobody looked guilty when you arrived at the scene."

"It's not all together difficult to hide one's guilt if one is well-practiced enough," Phryne pointed out, but agreed. They sat and finished their drinks then Jack stood to excuse himself.

"Please stay," Phryne said softly. "I'm sure my bed is a lot more comfortable than that they have you sleeping on down in the staff's quarters. And we needn't do anything more than sleep. You have my word." Jack looked hesitant, but he was not walking out the door, so Phryne felt she was winning. She shed her robe and got in under the covers. "Come on Jack. I promise."

Even if Phryne managed to keep her hands to herself, which Jack felt inclined to believe she could not, he did not think he would be able to. It was tempting enough simply being in the same room as her, let alone sharing a bed. But then, what did it matter if they did seduce each other. It was not as if they hadn't done so before. And not, he thought, as if they were unlikely to do so in the future.

He sighed and Phryne knew she had won. "Turn off the light before you get in," she murmured. Jack did as he was told then, removing his shirt, slipped under the covers beside her. He wrapped his arms around her, she rested back against him, and they did nothing but sleep.

. . .

xoxo


	16. Chapter 16

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Sixteen

. . .

_Gun shots, barely heard over the constant noise of explosions, the rain of shrapnel. Blood, everywhere. Men, everywhere, dead or dying, yelling. There screams could barely been heard. He saw a man at his feet, a German, a boy. He looked up at him with fear in his eyes, the fear of a man who knew he was going to die but had yet to come to piece with it. He raised his gun, rested it against the forehead of the boy, heard the bang, and watched the light go from his eyes as he went to meet his maker._

Phryne awoke far too early for her liking to a moaning and thrashing Detective-Inspector beside her. Fear and worry flashed through her quicker than she could analyse the feelings. He was covered in a cold sweet and mumbling.

"Jack," she said worried. Then repeated louder, "Jack."

She shook him violently. A bad dream, she told herself, he was just having a bad dream. The knowledge did not help her feel any better. Why wasn't he waking up? She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook. "Jack," she said in the most authoritative voice she could manage at such an early hour when worry was threatening to break her, "wake up."

Her tone appeared to work as his eyes snapped open. He was, she thought, like a child, the only difference being that she did not feel disgust and the deep desire to push him off to somebody better suited at dealing with his troubles. In a manner uncharacteristically motherly, she cuddled his head to her breast and rocked. "Shh," she whispered softly, patting his hair. "It's alright. You're here with me. It's alright."

Slowly but surely, Jack began to return to the real world. He stopped shaking and his breathing steadied. He wasn't there, he told himself, he was home. Phryne let out a breath of relief she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. They lay there, his head pressed against her chest, for a few more moments as both of them settled. Home, he repeated to himself.

"Phryne?" Jack asked, looking up into her jade eyes. He should have felt uncomfortable, being held by her in such a manner, but he felt as if he had just been to battle, perhaps he had, and didn't have the energy to feel anything other than gratitude that the woman he loved was holding him. Adrenaline was still running through him and it was making him shake.

"I'm here Jack," she smiled, though it wasn't her usual grin.

"Phryne," he repeated, relief evident in his voice. Using the adrenaline left to him by his dream, he reached up and kissed her desperately. Phryne realized he had yet to move through whatever it was that had shaken him. She kissed him back with the same hopelessness. She recognized what he needed and would give it to him.

They rolled so that Phryne was pinned under Jack's weight. His arms pressed her's down on the bed, not allowing her to move, and his hands fisted in her hair. Phryne's heart ached. He bit her neck, her breast. Gripped her tightly as he pleasured her. It was violent and distraught and left Phryne's head spinning. When they were done her panting was raspy and her mind unclear.

Jack rolled and looked at her in sudden fear, "Did I hurt you?"

She smiled softly and brushed his hair, stuck to the sweat on his forehead, back into its usual position. It was so sweet that he would worry about such things. "You didn't hurt me Jack," she smiled. She was lying down and he was leaning over her, she recognized in his brown eyes the deep fear, different to that which had been present in them not look before. "You did not hurt me," she repeated, more forcefully this time.

"Are you…"

Phryne gave him a look that told him not to finish his question. He did as he was told.

She brushed her fingers through his hair lazily. She wanted to ask him what he'd been dreaming about but felt she shouldn't. She didn't know why, she was nosey and wanted to know what it had been that had scared him so much, but she didn't push. Phryne guessed it would be about the war and such stories were for Jack to tell her when he was ready, not when she asked. "I feel we should add this to the list of things we need to talk about," she sighed.

"Aye, aye, Miss Fisher," he whispered humorously.

This time when he kissed her it was tender and sweet. She moaned at the feel of his hand capturing her breast, his thumb rubbing circles over her. She very desperately wanted to spend all day with him but sadly they were not at her residence and there was a murder to solve.

"You should get going," Phryne told him, even as his mouth caught hold of her nipple. She didn't bother to stifle an appreciative moan.

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Miss Fisher?"

"Jack dear, if I could have it as I wish we would spend the entirety of the day here. However, I do believe that it were you who did not want to be seen coming from my boudoir and Dot will be here any minute. As well as that, I'm sure Constable Collins will be looking for you."

"Yes, I do suppose your right."

"I'm always right," she smiled wickedly, giving him a not-all-that-quick goodbye kiss.

Jack left the room, wishing he could stay, and made his way back to where he was meant to have spent the night. The only people who saw him were staff who knew better than to say anything. He tried to push his dream far away. He didn't have time to be thinking about the war. It was just another thing to occupy his mind when his full attention should be on the case. He asked himself why the dream had returned, after so long, but pushed the question away. Another time, he told himself, when he was not so caught up in his work and Phryne, he would address it.

He was nearly in his room when Collins stepped out of his.

"Morning Inspector," he smiled, already dressed and ready for work.

"Morning Collins," Jack returned then entered his room to change.

Hugh, being Hugh, didn't waste a second thought on the fact that Jack were returning to his room dressed in his pajamas.

. . .

xoxo


	17. Chapter 17

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Seventeen

. . .

Dot entered Phryne's room, thankful to find her alone in her bed, and yanked open the curtains to let in the morning sun. She placed Phryne's sweaty body, hair sticking to her face, down to the heat of the Melbourne summer which was already picking up despite how early it was in the day.

"Going to be a scorcher Miss," she informed her employer.

"Days like this make me think something I never thought I would think: I miss the English winter," Phryne said with a sigh. Then added, at the worried look on Dot's face, "Not enough to ever feel inclined to return, but." Dot accepted this with a sigh.

When Phryne withdrew herself from her sheets Dot made no comment as to Phryne's nudity, though Phryne was sure she was thinking about it. She must have felt hot, Dot told herself. She was fully aware that her Miss Phryne often entertained men in her bed, but unless she'd seen them with her own eyes, she preferred to pretend they did not exist.

"What to wear…?" Phryne mused.

"Well Miss, what are your plans for today? Other than going home that is."

"Today Dot, we're going to catch a killer."

"Perhaps the red suit then," Dot said seriously.

Phryne beamed. "Perfect." She had gotten so unbelievably lucky in finding Dot. Not only was the girl an excellent seamstress and exceptionable stain-remover but she would pray for Phryne when she got in trouble, overlook her many bedmates and was even developing an eye for fashion, though she never made use of it herself. Once Phryne was dressed and ready for the day, she wrapped Dot up in an unexpected hug, kissing her forehead then holding her at arms length. "I really don't know what I'd do without you, old girl."

"I don't know what you'd do without me either," Dot smiled.

Phryne laughed and kissed the girl again. If one ignored the fear that she had woken up with and focused on the loving making that followed, the day had gotten off to a pretty good start. And, she mused, it was sure to come to a good end. If her suspicions were correct, she would have her killer by the end of the day. The only question was, how was she going to catch him?

"I'm going to go find Mr Everwood," she told the girl with a smile.

"And I'll back you bag," Dot smiled. "But first, perhaps, an aspirin and a nap. I feel a headache coming on." Once upon a time Dot would have never taken aspirin, not wanting to diminish her senses, but since working for Phryne she had learnt that the drug held an ability to heal pain that could not possibly be considered a sin if she accompanied the taking of it with a prayer.

"There's a paper or two in my bag," Phryne smiled. "If you want to just relax, I can get one of the lady's maids of the house to do it."

"Oh no Miss," Dot said sternly. She wouldn't have anybody else doing her work for Miss Phryne. "I'll just have a rest and get right on to it."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

.

"Sir!" Hugh called out.

"Yes, Collins?"

The two men were on their way to breakfast, though at differing speeds. Jack wasn't sure he necessarily wanted his thoughts to be interrupted by the young Constable, but the urgency in his tone had him responding.

"I've written up that report on where everybody was yesterday afternoon when you and Miss Fisher were examining the crime scene," he smiled broadly and proudly, handing over the typed papers. Jack wondered if his Constable were any worldlier he would have noticed his brief reaction to the memory of the woods, or of Miss Fisher. Perhaps, he answered himself.

He took the notes from Collins and ran his eyes over them briefly. "Quick synopsis?"

"Nobody is unaccounted for, sir."

Jack made a non-committal grunt, took the reports to see if he could find out who was lying, then returned on his mission for breakfast. He had had a rather exhausting night, and morning, and it was sure to be an exhausting day. If he were to get through it he would need a large meal, of which he were sure Mrs Rabbits would provide.

.

"Join me for a ride?" Phryne asked Nathaniel Everwood as she caught him at the bottom of the stairs. He really was quite pretty. Phryne felt only a short ping of regret that she would not get to properly get to know him. "Or perhaps a walk instead, through the gardens? My companion had probably already started packing my bags and I would hate to set her progress back to the beginning but changing into riding clothes. And I really would hate to leave without having seen the gardens."

"I don't believe you leave me much choice, Miss Fisher," he smiled politely, offering up his arm that she took, steering him out towards the manicured flowerbeds and hedges.

"Now, why have you stopped calling me Phryne?" she asked frankly. Nathaniel looked taken aback but didn't strife to answer her. "Well come on. Tell me."

"No reason."

"Liar," she said just flirtatiously enough that the harshness of her words were hidden. She did not appreciate lies unless they were told with prowess, and even then she only liked them on certain occasions, such as when they were coming out of her own mouth.

"I called you Phryne when I thought…" he trailed off.

"When you thought it was possible we would end up having an _affaire de cœur_."

Nathaniel choked and faltered in his stride. "I have never met a woman quite like you."

"Not many have," she smiled. "Though I imagine your mother is quite similar. Now, did you have an affair with Miss Amberlynn McCloud."

"Who?" he asked weakly, after a pause.

"A little too late my dear," she told him, critiquing his lie. "Never mind," she patted his hand, "I know now. Did you kill her?" Phryne realized that, had he killed her, asking him was probably an error in judgment, but they were out in the open and she had already made up her mind that he was not her killer. Her mind was very rarely wrong.

"What?" he asked shocked. The color drained from his face. "No, No… I, I didn't…"

"Don't worry dear," she patted his hand with hers again. The boy was such a terribly liar that certainly he must be telling the truth. "I believe you. Now, do you have any idea who might have killed her? Were you her only lover?"

"I doubt that," he scoffed, then, realizing her was with a lady, apologized.

"No need for apologies Nathaniel. She was not a nice young maiden then?"

"No," he said truthfully. Phryne led them the concrete ledge of a fountain where they sat to continue their heart to heart. "She was a mean girl, I realized that after we had… you know. She wanted money, told me it was only fair after what I'd done with her. I didn't think I'd… she had…"

"I understand," Phryne told him. "How often did you meet her and where?"

"At the garden shed, maybe four times? I don't know."

"Even after she threatened you?"

"Yes," he answered, ashamed.

"And did you make a plan to meet her?"

"The last contact I had with her was on Tuesday. I sent her a note to meet me at the garden shed. I wanted to talk to her. But I was called away to a friends house that evening, where I stayed for the next three days before coming here."

"Well, the police will likely need to talk to your friend to confirm, but I do believe your alibi will hold, so there is no fear. Now, do you have any idea who else Miss McCloud could have been involved with? The coroner's report states that she had…" Phryne searched for an appropriate euphemism, "intercourse, before she was killed."

"She… I don't know. Not really. I thought she might have been playing a similar game with Mr Campbell as she was with me. But that's only a feeling."

"I had the same feeling," Phryne sighed. The garden was beautiful. It contained flowers of all colours separated by winding paths, hedges, and concert walls, and at least three fountains that she could see. The one they sat on featured a rather beautiful Aphrodite. "And if you were the one who sent her the note, that would explain why his writing had not matched, which was the only evidence that went towards proving his innocence."

Nathaniel sat, captive to her charms, as he watched the gears of her mind move through the windows that were her jade eyes. She was an excellent creature, truly excellent. More goddess than human, he mused. "So how will you prove it was him?" he asked.

"I do not know yet," she confided, then stood and let him escort her back to the house. "But you will aid me if I need it." It was not a question.

"Of course," he smiled, kissing her knuckles before she walked off with purpose. She was, he thought, a determined woman, and if there was one thing his mother had taught him it was that a determined woman always got what she wanted.

. . .

This story had turned out much longer than I had intended it to but I hope you are still with me,  
not much longer to go.

xoxo


	18. Chapter 18

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Eighteen

. . .

Phryne was with Jack in the library, informing him that young Mr Everwood was not there killer, when Hugh came racing in.

"And what is this based upon Miss Fisher?" Jack asked.

"It's based on the fact that I do not believe he did it. And on top of that, he had an alibi," Phryne said simply, aware that Jake was insinuating she was letting him off because he had charmed her. Really, you would think the man would realize after he'd spent the night in her bed that she did not want anybody else. But Phryne was used to men and was aware they did not always think logically. "He didn't do it Jack."

Jack was about to speak when Hugh coughed. He'd been waiting at the doorway and had realized, unless he spoke up, he was going to be ignored. "The forensics office called," he informed them. Both Jack and Phryne gestured for him to continue. "The murder weapon was a pair of gardening scissors that were found in the shed."

"So it _was_ a murder of opportunity," Phryne mused aloud.

"But that doesn't mean that he hadn't pre-planned it," Jack countered.

"Indeed," Phryne pursed her lips. "It certainly doesn't appear a crime of passion. You said there was no other wounds?"

"None of consequence," Jack agreed.

"If it were a crime of passion I would expect more than a single stab to the throat. So it was an organized murder using a weapon found when he got there."

"So it would seem."

"Did they find any fingerprints on the scissors Hugh?"

"Too many Miss," he told her, "they couldn't get a single full one."

Phryne was about the reply when the shrill call of Aunt Prudence was heard. Phryne rolled her eyes at the two policemen as she straightened her skirt. When Aunt Prudence entered she greeted her with the sweetest possible smile. "Yes, Aunt P?"

"Phryne, perhaps we could speak privately."

"Why?" Phryne asked innocently.

Prudence shot her niece a stern look that had no effect. It was Jack who obliged her, standing from his seat. "Constable Collins and I will give you the room."

"Thank you," Prudence sighed, waiting for them to leave before she placed her hands firmly on her hips. "What is this I hear about you… _entertaining_ the Detective-Inspector in your chambers last night?"

"I don't know Aunt P, what have you heard?"

"Phryne!" She sat down and poured herself a glass of whiskey with a rather liberal hand. Phryne had only rarely seen her aunt drink hard liquor and she did so smoothly. "He really is most unsuitable."

"Oh, why? Because he is a policeman? Jack is one of the most honorable men I know and is just as suitable for me as the professor or Mr Everwood. I have my own title and my own money, so I require neither from a partner. And even then, the decision as to who I invite to my boudoir and who I chose to spend my time with is entirely up to myself."

.

"Inspector–"

Jack cut him off swiftly. "Quiet Constable." He was trying to listen to the conversation going on inside the room they had just exited.

.

"Really Phryne. What would your father think?"

"I honestly could not care less what my father thinks. My father is a heart-hearted man who only received his title and wealth because of a war that killed far too many of our young men. His opinion matters very little to me. Now," Phryne said, standing up to stand over her aunt, "I suggest you get used to me being involved with the Inspector because I don't plan on giving him up any time soon."

She left that with her Aunt to sink in and headed up to her room for a quick nap before lunch, where she planned to confront her murderer. Jack let the Constable speak but didn't hear much of what he said. His mind was fully preoccupied with the notion that Phryne did not plan on giving him up. What did that mean? Was it as if he were some vice that she was going to hold onto even though it was best she not, and that she would eventually be done with? Jack, if he were honest, had no idea what it had meant. But he knew one thing, he was thankful she at least wasn't done with him yet.

.

"Dot dear?" Phryne asked as she entered the room. Her clothes were still out and, when she looked, her bags were empty. She really didn't mind getting a lady's maid to do the work and planned on telling that to Dot. It appeared she was feeling more under the weather than she had let on. But when Phryne opened the door to Dot's room she found the bed slept in but empty. Dot would never have left her bed unmade, Phryne thought with fear.

She ran down the hall and straight into Jack's rather hard chest. "The bastards got Dot." Jack ignored the language. Hugh's eyes, however, popped out of his face, before he realized what came after Miss Fisher's claim that the marital status of their murder's parents.

"Dotty?" He asked weakly.

"Yes Hugh," she told him, before running off in another direction.

The two policemen feel in at her heel without missing a beat.

. . .

xoxo


	19. Chapter 19

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Nineteen

. . .

"Lucy," Phryne said as soon as her eyes found the woman in the room filled with people. She had planned this time to confront Mr Campbell but it appeared they were past the confrontation. Nonetheless, it looked as if he were the only one of their party who was not present. Both Guy, who had been sitting next to his lover, and Nathaniel stood at the look in Phryne's eyes, knowing there was soon to be hell to pay. Lucy simply looked up shocked. "Where is Gerald?" Phryne tried, very hard, to keep her voice calm and the effect was chilling.

"He's still coming," she said in a mere whisper, obviously frightened. Phryne thought it impressive that she could have such an effect on a woman ten to twenty years her senior. But then pushed it away as the woman was so meek it could hardly be thought of as an achievement. "I think… I think he's in our room."

Phryne in the lead, they headed towards the Campbells' room – located with much less difficulty during the day – and found it locked. Jack turned a blind eye as Phryne withdrew from her undergarments a file and made quick work on the lock. Hugh was to worried to even notice. She had the door open in a trice.

"Oh thank God," Phryne murmured as she spotted Dot tied to the bed, mouth gagged and still fully clothed. Phryne hoped that meant her innocence was still in tact. As it was currently, Phryne owed Gerald Campbell a good kick where it hurt, but had he molested her Dot she would have had to remove his baby maker before shoving it down his throat and slitting his neck. Briefly she considered that perhaps she had become a bit too thuggish during her time in Australian.

Hugh quickly liberated Dot from her bonds and cuddled her against his chest in a manner very similar to how Phryne had held Jack after his dream. Jack looked at her in a way that suggested he hadn't failed to notice the comparison. Later, she told herself, and focused on Dot.

Dot, having been trained under Phryne, started relaying the events in a quick and detailed manner before she was even prompted. "After you left the room Miss, I got them papers out of your bag then when to sleep in my room. Only thing is, I don't remember actually getting to the bed. I certainly don't think I locked the door. Then I awoke here tied up and alone. I don't remember any strange smells so if I was drugged it must have been in my morning tea – though I don't remember any strange taste – or in the aspirin. My priest says that betting's a sin, but if it wasn't, I bet it was in the aspirin as I made my tea myself and it would have been very difficult to put the drug anywhere cause I never have sugar."

"Too right," Phryne agreed. She was proud of Dot and told her so. Her companion blushed. "Now, did you see anybody?"

"No Miss," Dot said, disappointed that she couldn't be more help. "But I did smell peppermint. It was very strong Miss."

Phryne smiled wickedly and Dot recognized she must have done something right. Phryne reached down and kissed Dot's cold forehead. The room was hot and stuffy and her companion's temperature worried her. "You've done very well Dotty. Now, Hugh here is going to take you up to _my_ room and you'll get in _my_ bed, swallow a glass of the expensive whiskey I had brought up yesterday and relax. Am I clear?"

"Yes Miss," she and Hugh said in unison.

"Very good," she smiled and watched as they disappeared from the room. "Now Jack," she started as if she were in charge, he cut her off.

"We'll begin a room by room search for Mr Campbell. He can't have gotten far."

Phryne watched him leave and considered the situation for the moment. Gerald Campbell, she thought, was the worst killer she had ever met. His original act of killing Amberlynn McCloud had not been flawed, if only he had not let his paranoia get the best of him. Surely it had been he who had sent her a warning shot and pillaged her room. He'd probably used the opportunity to drug the aspirin. Another silly move as he had no way of telling when Phryne would take the drug or even if it would be Phryne to take it. And there really had been no point in taking Dot other than to further infuriate that woman detective who was on his tail, but was only on his tail because he'd tried so hard to ensure she wasn't. No, Phryne thought, Gerald Campbell was not a very smart killer and he was sure to hang. Once he's caught, she added.

Having no clues as to where the man could be hiding, Phryne returned to the parlor where the remainder of the party were being watched by a policeman, probably of the local force. He informed her that his colleagues were searching the house and that they _would_ find Mr Campbell.

There was nothing, Phryne thought, like a Constable's assurance to make one doubt. Nonetheless, she took her seat and accepted a strong drink from the Butler. It appeared this manservant possessed the same psychic ability as her Mr B, though perhaps not in as refined a manner. She thanked him and calmly sipped at the drink. She wanted to go and check in on Dot, but she always wanted to ensure that she get some much needed alone time with her sweetheart.

"Do you know where he would go?" she asked finally, breaking the room's silence.

"I haven't a clue," Lucy sighed. She was becoming quickly stressed by the entire situation. She was sure her Gerald, although he did enjoy dalliances with the staff, had not killed their maid, and if he would just come out from wherever it was he was hiding the matter would be tidied up quick smart.

"There aren't all too many places to hide in this old place," Elaine assured Phryne with a devious gleam in her eyes. "We covered up all the old passageways when I had Nathaniel, no way into them whatsoever. They'll find him soon."

"Indeed," Phryne said and finished her drink.

The company ate lunch in relative silence as the search went on and when Phryne returned to her room she found Dot just finishing the packing.

"Dot," she scolded, "you're meant to be resting."

"But I did rest Miss," she assured her, "and I felt better so I told Hugh to go help with the search so that I could do my work. He didn't want to but I told him to. Apparently they think he may have taken one of the horses," Dot said.

"Oh do they now," Phryne mused. She supposed it was better than sitting and waiting to be caught in a big house. "Ah well, I feel we should be returning home Dot dear."

"Before they catch him Miss?" Dot asked shocked.

"Yes. You need to get to bed and it's not as if I'm being much help here. Why don't you take the first armful of luggage down to the car and I will follow with the remainder."

"If you say so Miss," Dot agreed, though she wasn't convinced. Was her Miss Phryne planning something? She wasn't entirely sure. Regardless, she did as she was told, leaving Phryne alone in the bedroom.

"Where would I go," Phryne mused aloud, allowing herself to lie down on her well-made bed, "if there were a houseful of policemen searching for me? Out of the house, that is a given. And I'd take either a horse or a car. I suppose they already checked that none of the cars were missing. So he got on a horse and what, rode into the forest? Hardly seems a smart idea."

"I would happen to agree," a voice came from the door.

Phryne propped herself up on her elbows to see a figure her doorway, immediately recognizable as Gerald Campbell, leveling a gun at her. Fear struck through her but she told it forthwith that it was not welcomed. She dropped back to her bed with a sigh. "You really are turning this into quite the dramatic affair Gerald." She had begun to wonder if he would show up, but appeared her instincts were correct. She hoped Dot stayed and waited at the car and didn't feel the need to return to help her with the rest of the luggage.

Her indifference towards him caused quite the shock, but he quickly regrouped. "I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for your snooping."

"You would have gotten away with it if you hadn't become so paranoid," Phryne corrected him. In the brief glance she'd had at him and his gun she had realized her was holding it incorrectly and the safety was still on. She wondered if he knew. She knew her gun was under her pillow but she wasn't yet sure if aiming it at the madman with a gun of his own was a good idea.

. . .

xoxo


	20. Chapter 20

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Twenty

. . .

"Dotty," Hugh asked, spotting his steady standing beside Miss Fisher's deathtrap of a vehicle, alone, when there was a murderer on the loose who had already kidnapped her once. "What are you doing here?" He appeared equally shocked, worried and disapproving.

Dot straightened her back and prepared to deal with this situation as she had learned to. It was peculiar just how many times she had had to deal with Hugh in such a state whilst working for Miss Fisher. "I'm waiting for Miss Fisher," she said matter-of-factly. It wasn't as if she had done anything wrong.

"And where is Miss Fisher?" the Detective-Inspector asked. He was clearly exasperated and Dot wondered if he always was or if that was just the effect which her Miss Phryne had on him.

"Coming from her room. She asked me to bring down the first lot of bags and said she'd follow me. Though it has been a while. I wonder if I shouldn't go and help."

Jack smelt something fishy. He should have known not to leave Phryne alone. "How long ago Miss Williams?"

"Not _too_ long."

"And did you get the distinct impression she was trying to get you out of the room?"

"No I…" the two policemen watched as her face morphed from confusion to something closer to a worried, and rather annoyed, mother. "What's she done now?"

"I'm yet to know the answer to that Miss Williams, but I intend on finding out. Constable Collins will keep you company." And with that he was off in the direction of the house.

"Dorothy," Hugh sighed. "You really have to be more careful."

"In case you haven't realized," she scolded him, "I am not the one in danger at this current moment." She stalked towards the shade of the house and sat down with a light plump on a concrete bench where she took out her rosary and started praying. Hugh followed her like a Mary's little lamp, not saying a word.

.

"Honestly," Phryne sighed. "If you hadn't made such an effort at deterring me it would have taken much longer for me and the Detective-Inspector to determine that it was you who had killed young Miss Amberlynn McCloud."

"She was a little bitch," – apparently all social protocol about what one can and cannot say to a lady had gone out the window – "just like you. She wanted money!"

"Don't we all," Phryne said wistfully. She had been called a bitch plenty of times in the past and was likely to be so dubbed many times in the future, it was no skin off her hind.

"So I had to kill her, like I'm gonna kill you."

Phryne mused that, if he hadn't left the safety on, that would have been a rather fitting last line before the gun went off and the curtain dropped. However, he hadn't. He pulled the trigger and nothing happened.

Phryne watched his face go bright red with mild amusement.

"Drop the gun Campbell!" Jack yelled as he entered the room. The gun immediately turned on him.

Phryne removed her pistol from under the pillow and aimed it at the gunman. "It's two against one," she informed him, "if we really count your gun as one. Perhaps next time you decide to go barging into a ladies room with the intention of killing her you'll at least read the manual first."

"I…" the man mumbled.

"Drop it," Jack commanded in a tone mirroring that of Phryne's, and to his surprise the gun dropped. It appeared there was more to Phryne's entitled tone than he had given her credit for. "Miss Fisher?"

"Got it," Phryne smiled. She swung her legs off the bed and picked up the revolver, which she promptly deprived of its bullets. "Really Gerald, if you're going to try to kill somebody you've got to be much smarter about it."

"Mr Gerald Campbell," Jack said, pulling out handcuffs and clipping them onto the perpetrator, "you are under arrested for the murder of Miss Amberlynn McCloud." He read to him the rest of the rights as he escorted him out of the house and into the back of his car.

. . .

the end is near

xoxo


	21. Chapter 21

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

.

Chapter Twenty One

. . .

"How did you know he would come to your room?" Jack asked.

Phryne's bags had been collected and her car was loaded up ready for the return trip to St. Kilda which she trusted she could make in less time than the original journey, much to Dot's despair. The majority of the company had come out to say their farewells. Dot and Hugh stood in the shade, it looked as if she were giving her sweetheart a sharp warning. Phryne made note to inquire as to the grounds for this later.

"An Inkling," Phryne smiled, returning her attention to the dapper detective. "I was just about to believe I was wrong when he came in waving that thing around. Not that he had a clue how to use it. I'm beginning to think that shot at us in the forest wasn't a warning but a miss, and he probably only shot once because he was unable to reload."

"Lucky for us," Jack commented. Phryne shrugged. "But you still have one mystery to solve. Who was it that shot your cousin? Did Campbell get lucky and actually manage to land a bullet in his target?"

"No," Phryne smiled as if she knew the answer already. Of course she did, Jack mused. She looked over at Lucy Campbell who blushed scarlet.

"That… that was me," the woman managed. She really did not act her age. She reminded Phryne of a girl just out of puberty, unsure of herself and searching for surety between the legs of any attractive man she could find. Phryne understood the desire for attractive men, but never as a source of confidence. Her confidence was based primarily in her own abilities and allure. "But…"

"An accident," Guy finished, snaking an arm around the woman. Jack still wasn't sure how he felt about such affection, but Phryne smiled. Out of the corner of their eyes Prudence gave a sound that told all she did not approve. All simply ignored her.

Guy suggested to Lucy that he take her inside. "Good bye, cousin Phryne, perhaps I shall visit you in St. Kilda before I embark on my journey home."

"Perhaps," Phryne smiled. They kissed checks and Phryne muffled a laugh at the suggestive comment he whispered in her ear regarding herself and the Inspector.

"I'll take Campbell back to the station and book him," he told her once they were somewhat alone, though still surrounded by people.

Phryne took his hand in such a way that nobody else could see. It was a simply gesture and Jack felt it in his heart. He longed to say "I love you" but did not. Instead, he just smiled and squeezed the delicate hand in his.

"Goodbye Jack."

"Miss Fisher," he nodded.

And they each went their separate ways.

. . .

One more chapter to go! I should put it up tomorrow but i have an exam so it may end up being posted on Sunday.  
Thank you all so much for your reviews and kind words.

xoxo


	22. Chapter 22

THE HUNT

Disclaimer: I own nada.

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Chapter Twenty Two

. . .

"Did you catch the fox?" Jane bombarded Phryne as she walked through the door.

"Well, hello to you too," Phryne laughed, grabbing the girl up in a quick hug. Who would have thought she would miss the girl so much? For somebody who was so set against having children she loved this one entirely. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but cousin Guy was shot whilst we were out hunting and everybody rather forgot about the fox."

"That's okay Miss," Jane sighed, though was obviously disappointed. Phryne, who was dead set against hunting foxes for sport, wondered if she could get her hands on one for Jane, then crossed it from her mind. No, she just could not justify it to herself.

"Any messages for me?" she asked.

Mr Butler delivered them into her hands. She sat down with them in the parlor whilst Mr B went off to make up a cocktail. No doubt his lady would want one. Perhaps he would make one for Dorothy as well. She looked rather shaken after the ride in the car. No, she wouldn't accept it, he thought with a sigh, sherry it would be for her.

"I'll just go unpack your things Miss," Dot said, still shaky on her feet from driving far too fast and being cursed at in language she had never even heard before.

Phryne made a noise that suggested she had heard and approved whilst she looked over her messages. A few from old friends, a few from people whom she had never met wanting her to help solve some mystery for them, and one from Mac that rather stood out. Urgent, it read.

"Mr Butler," Phryne asked when he returned with the drink she hadn't asked for but desperately needed, "when did this message from Mac come?"

"Yesterday Miss. I suggested she call you at the Everwood estate but she informed me it was not quite that urgent. She said she would not mind at all waiting for you to return home."

"Would you call her now and suggest we meet for tea at the Independent Ladies club?"

"Of course Miss."

.

Mac informed her that the use of the word 'urgent' by her butler had been a slight exaggeration, though Phryne knew Mr B better than to believe he had exaggerated. There must have been something in Mac's tone when she had called to suggest the reason for her call was pressing. Whatever it had been, it was gone by the time they sat for dinner in the ladies club. The two drank whiskey and soda, with a slice of lemon, and talked about Mac's issue, which really was not her own. When Phryne returned to her home later that evening she had a new case with which to start on in the morning.

Phryne swung through the door and nearly ran into Dot. "The Detective-Inspector is waiting for you," she was informed. Dot's lips were pressed together and her eyes dropped to the ground in a way that was Dot's version of a wink. Phryne passed the girl her coat and went in search of her guest.

Jack stood with his back to the fire, a position customary of gentlemen. Phryne wondered if he would find the comment that he looked like a gentleman complimentary and decided he would likely feel indifferent about it. Jack Robinson, she mused, was a man often indifferent about things unless he felt strongly enough not to be. And in those matters where he was not indifferent Phryne had found him to be a really rather passionate man, although well disguised by his no-nonsense tone and clean-cut suits. He really was quite handsome, Phryne observed, standing there in her parlor with the fire at his back, looking all too like the gentlemen her Aunt P wished she would marry.

"Jack," she smiled, "what a pleasant surprise."

"I thought I would come to tell you that Mr Campbell is locked up in a cage that he is unlikely to ever get free of other than to walk to the hangman's noose."

"A pleasant thought," Phryne murmured sarcastically, but she smiled nonetheless. "A drink?"

"Sounds marvelous," Jack agreed. He wasn't saying something that he wished to, but Phryne judged he would tell her when he was ready. They sat and drank whiskey, provided by Mr B without having been asked, and waited.

"It was the war."

Phryne had an inkling that he was speaking about his nightmare, but not being sure, waited for him to elaborate.

"My dream this morning, it was the war. I was back there. I was…" he trailed off.

"You don't have to-"

"I do," Jack said softly before Phryne could convince him otherwise. He'd gone too long not talking about it. "I've never spoken to anybody about it."

Phryne, recognizing his need, sipped her drink and allowed Jack quiet and time with which he could string his thoughts together. She saw the pain in him and ached.

"It was at the Somme," he began quietly. With his words it were as if Phryne were transported there. She could see, as Jack described them, the falling bodies of men taken before their time. The smell of gas and blood was as strong as it had been when she stood on those fields herself. She could hear the rain of shells that deafened. Absently, she ran a finger over her own scar, hidden by her hair, where shrapnel had only just missed depriving her of the rest of her years. She could still see the blood, feel its warmth as it dripped down her face. Jack told the sad story of a bloke he'd been deployed with, the husband of one of his wife's pregnant friends, who had been standing right beside him when a bullet denied a child her father. He told of finding a German soldier who had nearly made it over no man's land, crawling not because he was trying to hide but because his leg had been blown off, of putting his gun against the boy's – he really was no older than a child – head and taking his life for that of his friend's.

When he trailed off again, Phryne went to him, kneeling and taking his hands in her's. She looked up into his eyes and said nothing.

Was it any wonder, he mused, that he was in love with this woman? He doubted any other female could have understood, his wife certainly wouldn't have. Wasn't that why he'd never told her? But then again, not many females had experienced the war for themselves. He longed to tell Phryne that he loved her, but didn't. Instead, he said, attempting to be lighthearted, "that's one thing crossed off the list of things we need to talk about."

"One of many," Phryne said softly, leaning down to kiss the hands she held in hers, the hands that had pulled the trigger ending another's life. She wanted to tell him that such things happened in war, that his actions that day did not make him a bad man, but knew he didn't need to be told, so she left the subject behind. "Do you want to start on the rest of them now?"

"Not quite yet," Jack told her. He was, he concluded, entirely happy not knowing where he stood with Phryne. Though the realization did cause him some shock. He loved her, but he would love her even if he had not spent multiple nights now in her company. The sex, he thought, only complicated matters, but not in a way that made it necessary to be avoided. He knew she didn't want commitment, or even a relationship of any romantic kind past that of being lovers, but he felt if only they did not discuss it, perhaps he could convince himself it was not true, convince himself that she might actually feel the same way about him as he did her. Wishful thinking, he told himself, but sitting in her parlor, her hands in his, he decided there was nothing wrong with a little wishful thinking.

When Phryne went to return to her seat, he did not release her hands. She stood over him with a crease in her brow, an indication of her confusion. Jack wondered how many men had managed to confuse the Hon. Miss Phryne Fisher and decided he must have been one of only few in that regard. He tugged her lightly until she came to sit on his lap. He smiled and she smiled back, genuinely, not in her usual wicked way. "Kiss me, Miss Fisher?" he asked.

Her wicked smile returned. "Gladly."

THE END

. . .

Thank you beautiful people for your reviews and your interest and I hope ever so dearly that you have enjoyed my story.

xoxo


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